


Iwaizumi and a Demon

by CharlesWaterloo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cute, Demons, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oh My God, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlesWaterloo/pseuds/CharlesWaterloo
Summary: Iwaizumi's great aunt Ayaka is ill and needs someone to look after her mansion house for the year she'll be in hospital. Iwaizumi is starting university and needs somewhere to stay. It's the perfect situation. Only Iwaizumi finds something, or rather someone, in Ayaka's house. And just because that someone has a pretty face, it doesn't mean he's human...ON PERMANENT HIATUS(A huge thank you to everyone who gave me so much love and support with this fic but I can't see it as going anywhere and I've been so busy with work and school. If anyone would like me to re-write it and make a proper plot I can do so. Again, thank you for all of your lovely comments. I appreciate them so much.)





	1. Ayaka's House

**Author's Note:**

> God damn, I love this pairing. Almost as much as Kagehina, which is a damn lot. If anyone knows me from my other fic, don't worry, I am going to keep updating, but real life has been killing me and I'm finding hard to work out some of the major plot points. I'll get another chapter out soon!  
> I have lots of ideas for this fic, however, which I will start in the meantime. This is honestly so fun to write, you have no idea. And so, without further ado, I present my second ever fanfiction to all you lovely people. I hope you like it!

Iwaizumi was grateful to his great aunt. No, really. But he was beginning to sincerely regret his decision to look after her literal mansion for her while she was in hospital and he was in his first year of university. It was perfect, in theory. Iwaizumi got free accommodation for a year, with lots of room and a nice kitchen, and Iwaizumi’s great aunt had a free house sitter for a whole year or more if any other complications came up. The prospect of not having to pay for housing on top of the university fees was one that Iwaizumi was loathe to miss out on.  
Iwaizumi was close to his great aunt Ayaka. She was lonely and widowed and came to stay at holidays often. She’d always been one for giving him lots of money on his birthday as a kid, telling him that the seventy year age difference was doing no favours for her, and she’d probably get him something he wouldn’t find interesting – he could get himself something he truly wanted if he had his own money. Iwaizumi thought she was pretty cool for that, at ten years old; she really understood the whole present thing. He’d told her so several times; he liked to see her smile.  
So, eight years later, Ayaka phoned him up. He always called her that: Ayaka. She hated being called “great aunt”. She said it made her feel old. ‘No shit,’ Iwaizumi had almost said once, because she _was_ old: there was no denying that. But he was never quite brave enough. This woman had seen several wars in her lifetime, and had never forgotten how to perform a solid right hook. Plus, Iwaizumi’s and Ayaka’s relationship was based on respect. Ayaka would no more say that to him than he to her.  
As a kid, his friends had thought she was pretty cool as well. She told great stories. They were never sappy old fairy stories, either. They were horror stories, full of demons and ghosts, with blood and gore and lots of screaming for effect. She gained quite a reputation within Iwaizumi’s home town, and everyone was always sad to see her get back on the train to go back to her “crappy old house”, as she called it, sunglasses on and handbag swinging. She was definitely eccentric. But Iwaizumi didn’t give two shits about that. And that was probably why she frequently told him that he was her “favourite great nephew”, amongst her ten or so others. Iwaizumi had a big family.  
Picking up her phone call, he’d been all too worried to discover she’d been taken to the hospital, and would be a resident in their long term care ward due to severe breathing problems. He’d immediately offered to come and see her only to be told to ‘shut up, boy, I’ll be fine.’ Then she’d offered – or more accurately _demanded_ he take care of her house, and it worked out well both ways. Iwaizumi had immediately obliged, and that was that. His parents had driven him there, their car full of cardboard boxes, wished him good luck and told him to study hard and that they were sorry they couldn’t visit him out here, the drive was just _so long_. With lots of hugs goodbye, and tears from both his mother and his father, they’d driven off, leaving him to look at, for the very first time, what great aunt Ayaka had called her “crappy old house”.  
It was most definitely not crappy. But it was a little spooky, insanely huge and breathtakingly beautiful. As long as he left a few lights on at night, Iwaizumi thought wryly, everything was going to be great.  
*  
The regret and fear really started to set in at about two a.m., when Iwaizumi had looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of Ayaka’s high-ceilinged, comfy-sofa’d living room and noticed it was getting pretty late. Classes didn’t start for another week, but he should probably start regulating his sleep schedule now. Iwaizumi knew from experience how easy it was to fuck it up, and how much you paid for it during the school day. Plus, you couldn’t spike a volleyball with no sleep. And that would really be bad.  
Ayaka was not one of those “live in the past” people, and therefore had a great shower with adequate water pressure, something Iwaizumi appreciated, being one of those people that hated waiting for ages for all the shampoo to come out. Iwaizumi was a “man who liked to get things done” or more accurately a “boy who was chronically impatient”. Being eighteen did not really mean you were a man yet, though Iwaizumi was more mature than most. He was getting there. He didn’t run away from his responsibilities. He rarely procrastinated. His one shortcoming was never being able to get to bed on time if he really didn’t have to. And he was all too aware he was exhibiting that shortcoming at that very moment.  
Sighing, he made his way to one of the guest bedrooms. It was a nice white room with a sloping ceiling and light wood floors, occupied by a double bed, of all things, which Iwaizumi was really not used to. The extra room was nice, he decided, after climbing in, yawning. He remembered that Ayaka had said he could decorate it however he liked, because she never used it and ‘if it looks terrible, at least I won’t be there to see it. Just down burn the house down. I’m trusting you, boy.’  
He smirked. That woman was a mouthful, and didn’t she know it. They really did get along well. He’d miss her for the year she was on hospital. He made a mental note to visit her when he was on his next break. Even thought she’d be pissed off on the outside, she’d probably be pretty glad. A true “tsundere” if there ever was one. Sort of like himself, though Iwaizumi would never admit that, which was ironic, because that was a tsundere trait right there.  
It was quiet in the house, but the comfortable kind of quiet, with the cicadas rasping outside the open window, warm air flowing in. Iwaizumi was in that pleasant state halfway between being awake and asleep, when he was jolted back to full consciousness by what felt like someone sitting on the bed, pushing the mattress down. Iwaizumi sat up hurriedly. There was no one there, no one in the wardrobe and no one under the bed, and the bedroom door was still shut. There was no way someone could get in at the window, because the smooth stone was impossible to climb, and they were four stories up. Iwaizumi had taken a room in the attic, and there were three stories below him. Iwaizumi went through his mental checklist. He’d closed all the windows and locked all the doors. The keys were in his nightstand drawer.  
He took a couple of deep breaths in. He was panicking. It was because he was in an old house, all alone, and he remembered one too many of Ayaka’s ghost stories. He was an idiot. He was normally relatively level-headed, but all that had gone out the window. He needed to calm down. He was imagining things.  
Iwaizumi scolded himself until he was nearly asleep again, and actually drifted off. He was woken up by a loud noise, and then silence. The cicadas and the wind were all quiet. Nervously, he checked his phone. He’d been out for less than half an hour. He looked around his room. All was still. Then, he noticed that the window had shut itself. He kicked himself again. The wind had changed direction and sucked it shut. He walked over and opened it, the welcome noise of cicadas flooding back in. This time, he bent the little brown window back to the wall and hooked the ring through the clip in the wall, clicking it shut. There was no way it could slam now.  
Finally, he could get some rest. No more heart attacks.  
He managed to go a good couple of hours before being woken up again. This time, he was just pissed off. Did Ayaka have to deal with this every night? It was the window again. How the hell? Well, it was an old house. The hook probably just…slipped out or something. It didn’t seem possible. But the thought was in his head now. He was officially on full alert. He had three theories: one, he was hallucinating from lack of sleep, two, there was some creep in the house or three, he was being haunted by a really annoying ghost.  
Iwaizumi resigned himself to the fact that he would not be getting any real sleep tonight. He was too hot anyway. Maybe leaving the window open had been a mistake. He did a quick check through all of the rooms of the house just in case theory number two was right (thankfully, they were all undisturbed), and contemplated getting salt in case it turned out to be the third, but ultimately abandoned that idea, because if there was one thing Iwaizumi endeavoured to keep intact, it was his dignity.  
He stumped his way to the shower again, longing to clean his body of sweat. He washed his hair even though he’d done it that morning, because he really needed something to do, then went to towel himself dry, planning to go downstairs to watch a film and eat popcorn and hopefully get some more sleep on the sofa. It was a nice idea, even if only terrible b-movies were on this early in the morning.  
Just as he was about to go downstairs, he noticed something written in the steam on the mirror. He went closer to get a better look, and gulped, looking behind him quickly. It said: _nice abs_ , with a winky face at the bottom. Iwaizumi almost died, right then and there. Should he call the police, or check the rooms more thoroughly? He decided on the latter, even though he knew that was how people always died in horror films. He armed himself with the nearest available weapon (a volleyball, even though he knew it was pretty stupid), and looked through every single room once again. He checked every nook and cranny meticulously. Nothing. Nobody. He even looked out of the windows. Just darkness and the wind. He went back upstairs to the mirror.  
There was nothing there. Just the silvery condensation running in long jagged lines down the mirror’s silvery surface. Iwaizumi wiped it away with a sigh. The police wouldn’t help a nervous teenager with no proof. Maybe he really had been hallucinating. He _was_ tired. But what the fuck kind of hallucinations was he having? “Nice abs”? Really? What the actual hell.  
He went back downstairs, and sprawled across the sofa, flicking on the TV. Just as he’d thought, crappy b-movies. This one had aliens in it. It was so bad he actually chuckled a couple of times. There were a couple of other sofas in Ayaka’s massive sitting room. They were pale blue and made of soft cotton. Yet another thing he liked about great aunt Ayaka: she didn’t invest in the typical floral-patterned grandmother armchairs.  
But as he looked at the one closest to his now, the seat cushion had an odd depression in it. He checked the others out of the corner of his eye, but they were all flat. There was _actually_ something there. Iwaizumi nearly crapped himself. There was no way Ayaka’s house was actually haunted, was there? If it was though, it was by one weird-ass ghost. Armed with this strangely calming thought and the kind of braveness that only comes at five in the morning, Iwaizumi slowly got up, trying to look as natural as possible, and went into the kitchen. He slowly got an apple out of the fruit bowl, then went back. The depression was gone. He sighed with relief, only to realise it was back… in the exact space he’d been sitting in.  
Deciding to test the ghost further, he picked up the volleyball he’d brought down earlier and walked upstairs with it under the pretence of putting it away back in his room. He had to physically restrain himself from running down again.  
He sucked his breath in when he saw the dip in the seat had moved again. Iwaizumi left. The depression moved. He went into the garden. It moved. He went and got a chair from the dining room. It moved. It was like it was playing with him.  
This carried on for several minutes until Iwaizumi actually laughed out loud. It carried on for a few minutes after that. But by that time, Iwaizumi had had enough. This was just crazy. In a spurt of bravery, he went directly over to where the depression was and stood in front of it. Then he kicked out in front of him, expecting his foot to glide smoothly on through. It _was_ a ghost, after all. Instead, it connected with something warm and hard. Iwaizumi was so surprised he almost missed the high pitched whine of whatever the hell it was he just kicked.  
Iwaizumi could have sworn he jumped higher than Hinata Shouyou on steroids, which was pretty damn high. He was so scared all he could do was back away and stammer, ‘What are you? I-I don’t understand… Leave!’  
Suddenly, the thing on the seat materialised, like someone had poured water over it, starting at the head and running down to the feet. Now Iwaizumi could see, it was not an “it”. It was a “him”. A boy. A man, technically. He looked like he was the same age as Iwaizumi himself. But Iwaizumi didn’t immediately register this. The first three things he saw were:  
1) The boy was, in fact, not human. One of his eyes was brown, and one of them was crimson and slit-pupiled.  
2) He was somehow managing to smirk and look offended that Iwaizumi had kicked him at the same time.  
3) He was unbelievably, undeniably, irritatingly beautiful.  
Iwaizumi just stared for a couple of seconds, before the man/ghost/demon/hot guy frowned. ‘That hurt,’ he said in a sing- song voice, sounding happy for some reason. Then he pouted like a child.  
Strangely, the first thing that came out of Iwaizumi’s mouth was: ‘I meant it to.’  
‘Iwa-chan, so mean!’  
‘How the hell do you know my name? And don’t call me that. Also, who and what the hell are you, and why are you here?’  
The boy grinned at him disarmingly. ‘I read it off your suitcase. So many questions, Iwa-chan!’  
‘Are you gonna answer them or what?’  
The boy looked offended again. ‘No need to be rude. I’m Tooru, Oikawa Tooru. And I’m here because I was banished. Satisfied?’  
All of Iwaizumi’s fear evaporated, replaced by rapidly growing annoyance. ‘You still haven’t told me _what_ you are. And why were you banished? Where from? Why were you banished here? None of this makes any sense. I really hope this is a dream.’  
‘Alright, I’ll tell you what I am. I am –’ he spread his arms wide like he was on a game show – ‘beautiful!’  
Iwaizumi wished he hadn’t brought his volleyball upstairs so he could serve it into this Oikawa-person’s head. Since he didn’t have it, Iwaizumi settled for raising his eyebrows and glaring.  
Oikawa blanched in the face of Iwaizumi’s steely gaze. ‘Okay, okay! Just don’t tell anyone, alright? Erm… well, I’m a demon, I suppose you could say. And I was banished from my guardian’s house in Tokyo for –’ he looked disgusted – ‘“disorderly conduct”. I was sent here because it looked empty. Happy now, scary face?’  
Iwaizumi laughed this time. It was all so ridiculous. ‘This has got to be the world’s shittiest dream. I was going to ask you where you got your contact lenses, but then you can go invisible as well. I can’t think of how it could be fake.’ Iwaizumi sighed. ‘Today’s been one of the weirdest days I’ve ever had, and no one else on the street is even up yet. Dream me is going back to bed.’  
He turned, then trudged up the stairs, cursing Ayaka and weird horror films. Just as he’d got up the second flight, Oikawa said from behind him, ‘you know, people usually pinch themselves to tell if it’s a dream or not. What happened to all your questions, Iwa-chan?’  
Iwaizumi spun on his heel. ‘How…? I didn’t hear anything behind me!’  
‘That is because,’ Oikawa began, with a mischievous grin, ‘I am _the stealth master_.’ He topped it all off with jazz hands.  
Iwaizumi was so done, he didn’t even react. He just kept walking. Thank the lord and all his angels that this was a dream. He flopped into bed, and closed his eyes, deciding to leave the window closed this time. His weird dream creation had apparently followed him into the room.  
‘Ugh, thank God the window is closed. Cicadas are so annoying.’  
_So that was you, huh?_ Iwaizumi thought sleepily. _Maybe I need to see a doctor…_  
‘Oho! This _is_ a volleyball! I couldn’t really see earlier. What position do you play? Oi! Iwa-chaaaaaaaaan?’  
Iwaizumi was so going to have to write this dream down in the morning.  
*  
Iwaizumi woke up feeling refreshed. His phone said it was one p.m. There was a volleyball net in the park not far from here. Maybe he’d call someone to come and set to him. Or maybe not – they were all busy preparing for university, making last-minute plans for roommates and furniture and whatnot. He wished there was a net in the garden. Iwaizumi made the decision to go to the park anyway, however. It was somewhere to go and he had nothing to do but study things in advance. He had no idea what his classes were going to start off with, though. It could just end up being counter-productive.  
Iwaizumi pushed those thoughts from his mind and put on the clothes he reserved for casual volleyball practice, thinking about his weird dream. It had felt so real at the time. Iwaizumi felt himself sort-of wishing that the demon-boy was real. He was definitely cute, and if Iwaizumi remembered right, seemed to be asking him stuff about volleyball. Did that mean he played?  
He was so much of a volleyball nerd, people even talked about it in his dreams.  
Iwaizumi cast his eyes around for his volleyball. He’d left it under his bed. Where had it gone? Maybe he’d sleepwalked and left it in the sitting room. With that slightly alarming thought, he raced downstairs. Just as he’d finished looking and was about to go and check the second and third floors, he heard a familiar noise from the garden. The noise a volleyball made when slamming into the ground. His feet unconsciously carried him towards it. He opened the door, then half-ran round the side of the house. There, he stopped and stared. Someone had chalked out a volleyball court on the patio that preceded Ayaka’s sloping garden. Two sturdy sticks were driven into the large spaces between the old stone tiles and tied across them was a pristine volleyball net.  
The person who’d done it all was currently serving Iwaizumi’s volleyball over the net with frightening precision. Iwaizumi watched in awe. It was undeniably one of the most powerful serves he’d ever seen. He thought that his ball was going to break.  
The executor of this perfect serve was none other than… the boy from Iwaizumi’s dream. Oikawa Tooru. So it hadn’t been a dream? What the hell? There was _actually_ an invisible demon guy living in Ayaka’s house?  
‘That’s my volleyball,’ Iwaizumi said stupidly. Oikawa landed and grinned at him.  
‘Sorry, Iwa-chan. I couldn’t resist. I forgot mine when I was banished.’  
‘I thought I was dreaming…’  
‘Well, most people would think the same thing. It’s not every day someone as amazing as me appears!’ He winked flirtatiously at Iwaizumi, who considered digging a whole and crawling in it to die.  
He growled in frustration. ‘Who said you could just live here? Explain! Where do you even come from? Demons actually exist?’ _And do you come from hell? Because there’s no other way you could be this annoying_.  
‘I would have thought it was fairly obvious we exist. Here I am, a living example. And a very good example at that, naturally. And I come from Tokyo! We’ve around just as long as humans have, and we talk to you all the time. You’d be surprised how many people you know are actually one of us. Apparently our bloodlines got mixed with something hundreds of thousands of years ago. Personally I think it’s aliens, but no one else thinks the same way… Do you like aliens, Iwa-chan?’  
‘No.’ Iwaizumi said savagely. ‘Okay, okay, I believe you now. But look, this isn’t your house, so can’t you just leave? I’m looking after it for my great aunt. I really don’t think she’d want a demon living in it, and personally I feel the same way.’ Iwaizumi glared at him for a moment.  
Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi’s glare remained firm. Suddenly, something changed in Oikawa’s face. He looked like demon he said he was. His single red eye flashed menacingly, and his smile was predatory and dangerous instead of childish and happy. Iwaizumi felt the fear he’d first felt when going to bed very early that morning.  
‘You’re serious, huh? Look, normally I would just go, but I have a set of circumstances of my own.’ Oikawa regraded him carefully. Iwaizumi stared him down, determined not to let Oikawa get the best of him. Looking at Iwaizumi’s stony face, Oikawa sighed. ‘See, my soul is tied to this house. I can leave and everything, but I have to come back every twenty-four hours.’  
‘Or what?’  
Oikawa grimaced. ‘Or I’ll die.’  
*  
Iwaizumi sat on the end of one of the blue sofas, trying not to look to the right too much. What had just been a depression in the seat yesterday was now Oikawa’s fully visible form.  
Apparently, Oikawa had broken one too many hearts. He’d explained to Iwaizumi (Iwaizumi feeling not in the least bit sorry for him the whole time – breaking people’s hearts was awful) that people had started complaining to his guardian (Ushiwaka-san, “the evil tyrant”, as Oikawa had called him). Girls and boys left right and centre were asking for him, wanting to know why he’d just suddenly disappeared. Hadn’t he loved them? That, on top of the fact Oikawa had a long history of breaking things with volleyballs, pushed Ushiwaka over the edge. He’d enacted a first-class ban, much to Oikawa’s shock. (‘Iwa-chan, they only do that to _criminals_ ’ – Iwaizumi privately thought that _was_ a criminal and had no right to complain). Oikawa wasn’t to go back until he’d “cooled his head”. Apparently, Ushiwaka would not be breaking the ban, either. He’d hinted, rather mysteriously, that only someone that Oikawa had actual respect for could do that. Respect, and something else, which Oikawa could not squeeze out of him.  
Though Oikawa Tooru was a total douche, Iwaizumi had to feel a little sorry for the guy. _Well,_ he thought to himself, _it’s a big house. As long as he doesn’t get in the way, and no one else finds out, he can stay._  
Iwaizumi knew, however, even after meeting Oikawa less than a day ago, that the chances of him not “getting in the way” were close to zero, and he was completely doomed.  
Oikawa totally deserved death. Iwaizumi considered chaining him to a post outside and seeing what would happen, but ultimately decided against it, in case anyone saw. He didn’t want to be thrown into prison on the police’s misunderstanding that he was harming someone, when he was in fact doing the world a favour.  
So, feeling like he had the patience of a saint, Iwaizumi let Oikawa back inside, flicked on the TV, and bade Oikawa do as he wished. Some terrible alien film was on again. Oikawa was evidently loving it. Iwaizumi felt himself unconsciously watching him, as he laughed and gave loud exclamations and even clapped his hands like a toddler a couple of times. He would have been heart-wrenchingly adorable to Iwaizumi, demon or not, had he not known that Oikawa talked about breaking hearts like other people would talk about different cereals. Okay, maybe he was still pretty cute anyway, but Iwaizumi was trying not to think about that.  
High pitched laser noises as the humans and aliens fought blared out from the screen. ‘And the humans have gone inside the mothership’s big opening!’ he said loudly, wiggling his eyebrows.  
Iwaizumi made a disgusted face. ‘Please don’t make crude innuendos in the middle of the afternoon.’  
‘When should I make innuendos then, Iwa-chan?’ he smirked.  
Iwaizumi considered killing him, frowning slightly, but he didn’t think he’d feel fulfilled unless he at least tortured him a bit first.  
‘You look like you’re thinking of dirty things, Iwaizumi.’  
‘I was thinking about murdering you, actually.’  
‘Iwa-chan! So mean!’  
Iwaizumi ignored him grandly, and pretended he was interested in the film. After a while, however, he started to get restless. Remembering how he’d wanted to practice earlier, he thought of the net on the patio. He got up and stretched, his shirt riding up his stomach. He thought he saw Oikawa staring at him from out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked over, his eyes were fixed on the screen. Picking up his volleyball, he headed outside, feeling happy he didn’t have to go all the way to the park only to find he had to share a court with some obnoxious twelve-year-olds. He wouldn’t thank Oikawa for it, but he was glad.  
He got all the way to the back door before he heard a ‘where are you going? Don’t leave me out!’ from behind him.  
‘Shut up and go away, Trashykawa.’  
‘Iwa-chan, don’t give people mean nicknames!’  
‘Can you not see how much of a hypocrite you are, you idiot?’ said Iwaizumi, almost laughing.  
Oikawa huffed, and Iwaizumi relented. ‘I’m going to go and practice in the garden. Go back to your shitty movie.’  
‘Hey! That’s _my_ net!’  
‘Yeah, well that net’s in what is _my_ garden at the moment, so unless you want me to kick you out…’ Iwaizumi backed off a little bit when he realised he was very close to Oikawa. His heart beat wildly as he looked at him more closely. Carefully messy brown hair, pale skin, strong jaw, one chocolate brown eye somehow just as striking as the red one, and a self-satisfied smirk. He was also taller than Iwaizumi by quite a bit, and looked like he exercised. All in all, what the girls in his old class would have described as “fit as hell”.  
Damn this idiot.  
‘Aren’t you going to finish your threat, Iwa-chan? Or are you too distracted by my pretty face?’  
_Shit._  
‘Shut up, Shittykawa.’  
‘Iwa-chan, so me–’  
‘I swear, if you say that one more time –’  
Oikawa laughed out loud, then was suddenly serious. ‘You’ll do what, Iwaizumi?’  
Iwaizumi felt himself turning red as Oikawa tilted his chin upwards to look at him. Iwaizumi wrenched his hand away hurriedly, and stalked outside, Oikawa chuckling quietly behind him.  
*  
Since there was no one to set to him, Iwaizumi settled for serving. He was just getting into it when a voice from behind him said, ‘very nice. But not as good as mine, of course. What’s your position?’  
Iwaizumi sighed, feeling strangely exposed. How long had Oikawa been watching? Iwaizumi had thought he’d gone back inside. Trying to keep his voice level, he looked at Oikawa who was standing at the edge of the court. ‘Wing spiker. And you?’  
‘My, my! Iwa-chan is showing an interest! I feel so flattered!’  
‘I’m only asking because there’s no one to toss to me,’ said Iwaizumi, angry. He never could ask an innocent question without Oikawa being annoying.  
‘Well, you’re in luck. I’m a setter. I can toss to you. I’m bored, anyway.’  
Iwaizumi and Oikawa played for long enough for Iwaizumi to get the distinct impression that Oikawa was extremely talented when it came to volleyball. This wasn’t something he did just for fun. When the light started to fade, Iwaizumi realised that Oikawa had said little, if anything, since they’d started. He looked over and asked if he wanted to go in. Oikawa said Iwaizumi could, but he was staying.  
He looked at Iwaizumi oddly. ‘You’re a good spiker, Iwa-chan.’  
Iwaizumi didn’t quite know what to say to that. He didn’t take praise well. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, but he always felt a little awkward afterwards. Hearing it from Oikawa had the unfortunate effect of making him blush. He turned away quickly.  
‘If you don’t come inside, Trashykawa, you’ll hurt yourself, and then we can’t play tomorrow.’  
Oikawa said nothing, ignoring him. Iwaizumi walked over and hauled him inside, Oikawa protesting loudly. Oikawa was strong, but Iwaizumi was no string bean. ‘Come on, idiot. Rest is part of volleyball, too.’  
Oikawa scrambled to his feet as soon as they were back in the sitting room. He was strangely quiet. ‘Why do you even care if I hurt myself, anyway?’  
Iwaizumi was shocked. He hadn’t known Oikawa could act like this. But what shocked him more was that he didn’t really know why himself. ‘I feel responsible for you, Shittykawa, since you’re in my house at the moment. You don’t seem very capable. And burying people that have died from exhaustion takes a while. I don’t have that kind of time. I have shit movies to watch.’  
Oikawa looked, to Iwaizumi’s infinite surprise, very shocked. Then he grinned widely. This smile seemed real, full of happiness. Iwaizumi’s heart almost stopped. Oikawa burst out laughing after a couple of seconds of looking at Iwaizumi’s well-developed poker face.  
‘So mean, Iwa-chan!’


	2. The Demon's in Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi is forced to go to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! I hope you like it!  
> Also, more news for my other fic: I'm nearly done writing! Should be up this weekend, if real life doesn't do a number on me :D  
> ALSO SORRY ABOUT THE ITALICS, I CAN'T SEEM TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY OTHER PROBLEMS/TYPOS ETC THAT YOU FIND. I WILL BE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. I HOPE IT'S STILL OKAY.

Ushiwaka was cruel to Oikawa, he’d always said, but deep down he knew it was because Ushiwaka wanted him to be a better person. Oikawa begrudgingly looked up to him, even if Ushiwaka was only eight years older. He’d always been bigger, better, stronger, more mature and better respected. His opinions had always held twice as much weight as Oikawa’s had ever done within the demon community of Tokyo, and Oikawa sometimes felt that they always would do. Oikawa knew, of course, that if he was really that worried about being taken seriously as an adult, he would start behaving better, stop breaking hearts and partying – stop being selfish and immature. But it seemed like all of that was just part of Oikawa as a person.  
Oikawa sometimes felt he had no defining emotional traits. Instead he had rumours. Oikawa was a “beautiful, womanizing (as well as the male version of that, though there wasn’t yet a word that didn’t sound stupid), volleyball-obsessed, bastard party animal with a terrible personality, that couldn’t and wouldn’t be stopped”. And they were right, the whisperers, the speakers of snatches of conversations splattered all over with his name and his face and his terrible get dangerously attractive reputation. But only to a certain extent. Oikawa would have people know that he was actually quite sensitive deep down, worked perhaps too hard when he put his mind to things and loved aliens and new people.  
He went to parties to see if he could meet someone who could see through his carefully moulded exterior to what was inside, then came home glad that no one could. He was born a beautiful demon, and he was proud of it. Yes, he loved volleyball. It was the one thing that people would just be blatantly lying about if they said he hadn’t worked hard to be this good. Oikawa felt his one shortcoming was that he really did like seeing people suffer, breaking them. But he was justified! It was only if the person was annoying or deserved it, and definitely if that person was a black-haired, blue eyed demon volleyball genius, accompanied by a small, fluffy orange bird. Definitely if it was Tobio-chan.  
Kageyama Tobio both annoyed and interested Oikawa. He was a demon, and no backwater demon at that, who scared most humans, as well as demons, away with his ferocious glare and dark aura. Yet he was in the constant companionship of a small, most would say adorable, carrot-headed human boy who could jump higher than the Eiffel tower and whose voice was louder than a sonic boom. They bickered and swore at each other, but overall, those two got along really well. And the funniest part was that each had a giant crush on the other, yet neither knew about it. And Oikawa sure as hell wasn’t going to help them.  
But when it came down to it, Oikawa wanted someone like that. He wanted someone to open up to. But he never felt like he could trust anyone. In truth, Oikawa did not simply _want_ that kind of love and affection, he _craved_ it. Every boy, every girl he’d ever kissed seemed to see only the outside of the walls he put up. They treated him like glass, like a trophy. Every hug, every glance was artificial. After a while, Oikawa had to give up and leave them behind. He did care that he hurt them, but he also liked to think he was helping them. He never really thought that any of his boyfriends of girlfriends had ever actually loved him truly, either. They’d just loved the _idea_ of him, his pretty face – the danger of him, the possibility.  
Oikawa had been banished before. Dozens of times. But only ever for a few days. It had only ever been a category five ban, like a slap in the face, not a knife to the throat. Apparently, however, Ushiwaka had had enough this time. Two demon boys, one human boy, a demon woman and human girl (Oikawa had no preferences when it came to species) finally found out that Oikawa was under the charge of one of the most powerful demons in Japan, strength-wise and politically, as well as part of the most influential division of the Aoba Johsai clan, Shiratorizawa. Well, they didn’t specifically find out he was a demon – rather that he was a powerful young businessman. This normally made people back off a bit, which was part of the reason why Oikawa didn’t normally say. But Oikawa’s past six partners were unusually dedicated. They’d even banded together to do their research, intent on making Oikawa choose. He normally would have been quite impressed, and commended them for their tenacious yet futile efforts, but this time he knew he was neck-deep in the biggest pile of shit there was on the planet.  
When Ushiwaka was furious, he didn’t shout. What he did do, however, was punish people. Any attempts at protesting this were met, without fail, with further punishment. He was an eagle, a massive hunk of granite in the sea. Little swayed him, and he rarely, if ever, lost. He’d punished Oikawa time and again for his antics. To others, Ushiwaka might have been seen as harsh, but Oikawa knew that he was in fact being lenient. He did actually have a heart in him, despite his hard exterior.  
But when these six people and their friends and family turned up at the massive wood front door, banging on it and shouting at four in the morning, Ushiwaka brought down his iron hammer with the full force of his anger and authority. He’d first got Kiyoko to make them leave. Kiyoko’s voice was an interesting one. She could persuade people to do anything, but she had to choose the right words. Kiyoko rarely used it. She neither wanted to nor needed to. Her beautiful face and kind nature made people agree on impulse.  
After they’d left, Ushiwaka had taken one look at Oikawa. Oikawa looked back at him, trying and failing to be defiant.  
‘Oikawa Tooru. You are now under a level one ban, which will take action within the next three hours. I suggest you start packing. Not only have you hurt good people, you have put the entire demon race at stake. If these people had noticed _anything_ else, you could have threatened the lives of the hundreds of millions of us in existence. We _never let humans get too close. You will be gone for six months. I am sending you to a suitable empty house where you can’t bother people, and where you will reflect upon the severity of your actions.’_  
This was the point where Oikawa hadn’t been able to stop himself from arguing at the unfairness of it. Kageyama and Hinata were probably going to end up married at some point. Why the hell could he not have a relationship?  
‘You know full well that’s different. Hinata already knows we’re demons, and he neither cares nor is able to tell anyone. He agreed upon finding out to have a Mark on his vocal chords. You, however, did not take such precautions.’  
Then Ushiwaka had hit Oikawa with the part which still stung.  
‘I’m disappointed in you, Tooru. And we have a rule here. I will punish you fairly. You will learn from the punishment. If you argue, I’ll make it worse. Goshiki has already found somewhere, so you will be there for the next year. Your coursework will be emailed to you. Go and find a bag. You need to cool your head.’  
Oikawa knew that disappointment was an emotion often associated with him, but never from Ushiwaka. He’d been angry, but he’d always believed that Oikawa was better underneath.  
And even though Oikawa resented him, deep down he desperately wanted to prove that what Ushiwaka had originally thought had been right.  
*  
So, when Oikawa had been in the midst of resigning himself to having a shit life for the next year, having been sent to the house two days prior, he was extremely surprised to find that the house was not, in fact, going to be as empty as Goshiki had said it was going to be. Oikawa smirked. Goshiki was so eager to please, though a little erratic. He hadn’t looked into the circumstances surrounding the owner and her family properly. It was to expected, but was still unfortunate –  
Wait, unfortunate? Oikawa reduced his visibility to zero (as Ushiwaka called it, but everyone else just called it “doing a Harry Potter”) and took a good look at the house’s new resident. Holy shit. This was not unfortunate. This was amazing. _One hot guy borrows a house. It turns out another random hot guy is actually going to be living there. Badabing badaboom._  
Oikawa didn’t even know himself he was insinuating there. But really, though. Oikawa was meant to be on a path of redemption, not falling for pretty faces again. Well, pretty face and nice arms and cool, calm and collected expressions…  
The boy who’d just walked in the door was shorter than Oikawa. That was a habit of Oikawa’s, which, oddly, many seemed to share. Oikawa was never philosophical about it. It just seemed like people under the age of twenty weren’t adults. It was the “teen” on the end that did it.  
Anyway, said boy was definitely cute. Cute enough to attract attention when walking down the street, even though he did look a little grumpy. Short dark hair, nice build, warm-toned skin and straight eyebrows. He looked mature and determined. His parents seemed nice. Apparently, he was starting university. Oikawa felt both hugely jealous and massively angry. He’d been all set to live the good life at uni, then had been deprived of it. He’d now get his work and lessons through emails. Other people might have said that may have helped him concentrate more, without the distractions university life posed. Oikawa would have had to agree, but he wanted fun. And working by yourself in a huge house was most definitely not fun.  
He could still go to parties, he supposed. But not for very long. Technically, he’d be fine for a full day, but he’d start feeling the pull back to the house, where Ushiwaka had tied his soul, after about eight hours. It would become dangerous around the twelve-hour mark. Everything sucked. But one other person might be fun. Especially if that person was pretty hot.  
Oikawa did his best Effie Trinket voice. _Let the fun begin._  
*

_This thing with Iwaizumi was becoming uncomfortably like a crush, but not in the way any of his past crushes had been. Iwaizumi, for some reason, made him a little nervous, but strangely comfortable at the same time. Oikawa was doing his best not to, but he kept slipping up. It really hadn’t been his fault when he’d thought that Iwaizumi had gone to get something from the bathroom. He’d followed him on a whim, only to find himself locked in. If Oikawa unlocked the door to let himself out, it would just be awkward if the time came where he showed himself later on._  
Then Iwaizumi had taken his shirt off, and everything had changed. That guy definitely played some sort of sport. Hot damn. Oikawa had been kind enough to look away when he was completely naked, however, because contrary to popular belief, he was not a total perv. It’d been hard, though.  
And then it had felt like it was Oikawa’s _duty_ to say something about his physique. Plus, he wanted to test him. Would he freak out? Would he be brave? Was he rational, or would he bust out the salt? The possibilities were endless, and Oikawa could not wait to see which path Iwaizumi would take. Naturally, Oikawa had taken the liberty of reading all the name tags on his suitcases. He was being _inquisitive_ , not nosy. Perish the thought.  
Iwaizumi had gone for the rational course, in the end, checking all the rooms again. And then he’d surprised Oikawa by only being slightly scared. Then he had _actually_ kicked him in the chest. The thought made him laugh, even though it had hurt like hell, and he’d have a bruise for days. He was definitely unusual, was Iwa-chan. Oikawa liked it very much.  
It had been even funnier when Iwaizumi had doggedly refused to believe any of it was real. He took no bullshit from Oikawa, either. Normally people found his teasing charming, annoying, or didn’t really know how to react. Iwaizumi just got pissed, then brushed it off like it was nothing, like he was used to him already. It made Oikawa want to test him further.  
He hadn’t had the chance, however, because Iwaizumi just ignored him and went to sleep. Oikawa had felt a little creepy when he’d just watched him for a while. Iwaizumi had it coming, though. There was no way someone could be that damn cute and not expect a little bit of ogling. He looked so calm and peaceful. Every exhale ruffled his hair a little. Impulsively, Oikawa reached out to touch him. His skin was very warm. Drawing his hand back quickly, he left the room, his cheeks burning.  
*  
Much later, Oikawa was thinking about how Iwaizumi had seemed like he actually cared about his welfare, despite having only just met him. On top of that, he was a demon and was invading his house. Granted, Iwaizumi had seemed pretty annoyed, but there hadn’t been any real weight behind his anger. Oikawa’s assumption that he was cool-headed had been more than correct. He’d taken it all in his stride, and let Oikawa make all of his mess visible again so he could dump in in a room. Oikawa had chosen the room next to Iwaizumi’s for totally innocent reasons. I was a complete coincidence. He just really liked attic rooms. He totally wasn’t going to sneak in again to look at Iwaizumi sleeping. How ridiculous would that be?  
Oikawa really liked teasing him. The blush was so satisfying. It felt like revenge for when Iwaizumi had inadvertently done the same thing to him when he’d been asleep.  
Then Iwaizumi had spiked his tosses. Every one. He was powerful, as well. Any team would be lucky to have him. Oikawa had wanted to keep going. He’d wanted to get better. He felt great, out there. He was really into it, feeling like he could have set to Iwaizumi forever. The people on his demon team had been good, but Iwaizumi was something else. And it really helped that Oikawa’s crush on him had gone from small to huge.  
When Iwaizumi had stopped him, he’d been puzzled, protesting. He tried in vain to break Iwaizumi’s grip, only to have his heart start beating wildly when he realised Iwaizumi’s fingers were touching the back of his neck as he dragged him along.  
The point where Oikawa knew he was in way too deep in this crap was when Iwaizumi looked at him square in the face and said something that made his heart flutter. He was taking no bullshit from Oikawa, and was being pretty mean, as Oikawa had become used to, but the kindness was there, underlying everything. He’d been so stupidly happy. Just one thing said from one person had made him grin like an idiot.  
‘I feel responsible for you, Shittykawa, since you’re in my house at the moment. You don’t seem very capable. And burying people that have died from exhaustion takes a while. I don’t have that kind of time. I have shit movies to watch.’  
Oikawa was currently in bed, mulling it all over. He’d never really felt like that before. Had he even known the guy for twenty-four hours yet? Was this what they called love at first sight? Oikawa actually laughed at himself, then. He was being way too optimistic.  
*  
The next morning brought a phone call for Iwaizumi. Through the whole conversation, he was lively and animated, making sweeping hand gestures and laughing frequently. ‘Nah, just google maps it. It’s not hard to find…No, it’s massive. Invite anyone you like. Just not anyone really crazy. Bokuto? Nishinoya? Suga, they _are_ crazy. I never thought the day would come when _you_ would deny that. Yes, okay. Fine, then. I’ve got one other person with me here, anyway…You don’t know him. But he’s a great setter. Yeah. Okay. Okay. I’ll see you at three. Bye, Suga.’  
He turned and ended the call with a smile. He blushed and shouted when he saw that Oikawa had been listening. ‘Oi! Shittykawa! Stop eavesdropping on my conversations!’  
‘That’s hardly fair, Iwa-chan. You _were_ talking about me. I take it you’ve got friends coming for a match?’ Oikawa was excited, but didn’t show it. ‘You want me to set for you?’  
Iwaizumi looked heartily embarrassed, and wasn’t looking at him. ‘Yeah, okay. I thought you could play with us.’ He grinned. ‘Cause you don’t have any friends. I’m taking pity on you.’  
‘So mean, Iwa-chan!’  
‘They won’t be here for a few hours. I’m going to get food.’  
‘What shall we get, then?’ Oikawa said, inviting himself along. He hadn’t been anywhere in days, and he was really starting to feel it. It was like a buzzing in his feet. He was likely to go completely insane if he didn’t walk somewhere.  
‘You’re not coming, Trashykawa. You’re annoying. Don’t people notice your eyes when you’re out anyway? One’s brown and one’s red. And what about your ban?’  
Oikawa winked at him with his red eye, changing its colour to brown like his other as he did so. Iwaizumi looked grudgingly impressed. Oikawa reminded him he’d be good, ban-wise, for a few hours, and that they weren’t going to take that long, anyway. When he didn’t complain about him coming anymore, Oikawa took that as permission to tag along.  
They walked a couple of kilometres to the nearest supermarket, Oikawa chattering away and Iwaizumi saying little aside from the occasional insult. Oikawa talked about aliens (Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows in disbelief), volleyball (Iwaizumi nodded enthusiastically) and good films he’d seen (Iwaizumi interjected with the occasional comment).  
Oikawa found he couldn’t quite concentrate, however. He had three things on his mind. One: Iwaizumi had remembered his ban, and seemed worried about what would happen to him, even if his tone of voice suggested annoyance. Two: Iwaizumi had noticed the colour of his eyes. Three: Iwaizumi had actually included him in the group of friends that were coming. He’d made a place for him as setter. Oikawa felt glowingly happy. Of course people would want to include him, considering his amazingness. It was only natural. But Iwaizumi actually bothering was a little bit different.  
They got to the supermarket, and were in the meat section (they were having a barbecue) when Iwaizumi poked him. ‘If you’re a demon, do you even eat human food? Do I have to get crazy food or what?’  
There it was again. Oikawa felt curiously light-headed. Did that mean, if Oikawa said that he did eat said “crazy food”, Iwaizumi would buy it? Oikawa, strangely, didn’t want to ask. Instead, he laughed.  
‘No worries, Iwa-chan. I eat the same things as everyone else. It’s part of the reason why no one who can’t be trusted – so basically most humans – don’t know we even exist. That and the fact we can disguise small parts of ourselves.’  
‘I’m trusted, then?’  
Oikawa raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t thought of that. Crap. If Ushiwaka found out, he’d probably never see the light of day again. But Iwaizumi seemed pretty trustworthy. Besides, Oikawa technically lived with him, now. He could keep an eye on him if need be. But then Iwaizumi was meant to be going to university; he couldn’t watch him there. Iwaizumi had apparently noticed him thinking. ‘So I’m not? Look, I’m not going to tell anybody. I’d rather not be killed by this Ushiwaka guy.’  
Oikawa shook his head. ‘You won’t be the one that’ll get killed. That will be me, unless they decide you’re a threat. The easy way out is just to put a mark on your vocal chords, and your wrists to stop you from writing.’  
‘Wait, what? I don’t know if –’  
‘It doesn’t hurt or anything. You can’t even see it. But I don’t know anyone who can erase memories, so you’re stuck with this. All they do is prevent you from speaking or writing when you’re not talking to someone who is a demon themselves, or has their own marks.’  
Iwaizumi just stared at him for a few seconds. ‘Life has become way more difficult since I met you, Shittykawa… Alright, fine. You can do it. But first let’s buy food.’  
Oikawa was duly impressed. Yet another thing Iwaizumi had taken in his stride. He should have expected it by now. They bought meat, and some spaceship jelly sweets, because Oikawa had begged loudly enough to attract attention, knowing full well Iwaizumi would want to shut him up. It had taken a long time, however. Iwaizumi was as stubborn as a mule.  
It had been, all in all, a very fulfilling trip. The sweets were delicious.  
*  
Iwaizumi had, as it turned out, a _lot_ of friends. They’d all come in separate cars. They were also extremely loud. Admiring the house appreciatively and greeting Oikawa warmly, they swarmed inside.  
‘The net’s out on the back patio!’ Iwaizumi shouted.  
‘Osu!’ came everyone’s reply, as they all crowded out of the back door.  
Oikawa took stock of all the people. There was Sugawara or “Suga”, as everyone called him, short and silvery haired, who had a calming presence and a kind face and manner. Daichi, slightly taller, looking very different against Suga’s pale skin and hair, all dark hair and eyes. Daichi was very level-headed. Everyone seemed to listen to him. Then there were was Kuroo, cat-like and tall with messy, spiky hair and a mischievous grin and gold eyes. He was a demon as well, Oikawa saw with surprise. It was always easy to tell them apart. Next to him was Kenma, looking very small. He was looking intently at his phone, concentrating on something. A game, maybe. Kuroo pushed him in the back to move him along.  
Then, the four loudest: Nishinoya, Tanaka, Bokuto and Lev. Nishinoya was the shortest, grinning and laughing heartily with the taller, shaven-headed Tanka at regular intervals. Bokuto looked like an owl, with his double-tipped spiky hair, silvery-grey and black. Lev was easily the tallest in their group, all lanky limbs and green eyes. He was also very clumsy. That left the quieter people who were all talking with Suga and Daichi. Asahi, bearded and scary looking but, from what Oikawa gathered, meek and good-natured, and Akaashi, who’d come with Bokuto. Oikawa got the distinct impression that Akaashi was the only one who could keep Bokuto’s ridiculously loud voice and absurd antics in check. He must have a lot of patience.  
With Iwaizumi, himself, Kuroo, Kenma, Bokuto, Akaashi, Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka and Lev, there were twelve people. It felt, in all honesty, like a hundred, with the noise and bustle. Oikawa loved it. And now, they had exactly the right number of people for a match, if they modified it a bit so no one had to switch out.  
Daichi shut everyone up pretty quickly, and they started agreeing on positions, because they had more than one of everything apart from Nishinoya, the only libero.  
Wing spikers: 5 (Iwaizumi, Bokuto, Daichi, Asahi and Tanaka)  
Middle blockers: 2 (Kuroo and Lev)  
Setters: 4 (Oikawa himself, Kenma, Akaashi and Suga)  
Libero: 1 (Nishinoya)  
Everyone agreed, however, that Oikawa had to be the setter for at least one team, because Iwaizumi had actually praised him. Tanaka and Nishinoya looked at him hungrily from afar. Oikawa, loving the attention, smiled at them cheekily, the served his best serve.  
There was silence as it hit the other side. There was a low whistle. Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows at him. ‘Iwaizumi wasn’t lying, then.’  
Oikawa wiggled his right back, and got ready to serve again.  
*  
They played eight games, in total. The tiny libero, Nishinoya, got used to his serves after a while, and kept getting them up. Oikawa was mightily pissed. Damn that libero! He was fast. They stopped for barbecue after six games. Oikawa wanted to play more, and it seemed that others shared this sentiment. They played two more games (a win and a loss again, both teams were so evenly matched it was infuriating), but then all of the “mum” friends of the group spoke up in unison. The combined power of Suga and Akaashi was great indeed, and was only intensified by the glares from Daichi and Iwaizumi. Oikawa supressed a laugh. Four parents.  
Everyone left in high spirits. Oikawa let down his pride enough to think to himself that he was almost sorry to see them go.  
Oikawa was surprisingly tired, now it was dark. He made his way upstairs to go to bed, Iwaizumi’s voice ringing behind him. ‘Oi! Shittykawa! You ate too, help me wash up!’ Oikawa ignored him (he had to keep up his reputation for being a shitty human being, after all).  
Not bothering to change into anything, he stumbled towards the bed in his underwear and flopped down on the bed, asleep almost instantly.  
*  
He was awoken, later on, by a hurriedly muffled swear word and an exclamation of: ‘sleep in your own damn bed, asshole. I can’t even tell if you mixed them up on purpose or not. God.’ Moments later, the mattress dipped downwards as Iwaizumi got in the bed. Oikawa laughed softly, and turned over.  
*  
A few days later, Iwaizumi started university. Oikawa felt they’d grown closer, but knew it was most likely just wishful thinking on his part. Iwaizumi’s insults were, if anything, more frequent. Oikawa just found them more and more adorable. Now Iwaizumi wasn’t around as much, he was constantly bored. There was no one to tease and no one to play volleyball with. He found the temptation of turning on the TV too much to bear, and instead decided he’d do his work in the garden.  
He opened his laptop, read the lesson emailed to him, had a look at the online textbook, understood none of it, and went to practice serves. The email had said it was due tomorrow. Oikawa didn’t care. He’d clear his mind, first. Oikawa checked the time a while later and was surprised to find a couple of hours had gone by. How strange. Looking regretfully as Iwaizumi’s volleyball, he decided that if he was actually not going to fail everything, he should probably go and find somewhere else to sit.  
A more thorough investigation of the rooms on the top floor led to the discovery that there was a skylight in the very end bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it before, because it was covered with a blackout blind the same colour as the ceiling. He opened it, shoved his laptop and other books into a volleyball bag, and climbed out. The roof was luckily very sturdy. Picking his way unsteadily over the tiles to the ridgepole, he sat down, got his laptop out, raised his eyebrows at the fact that the Wi-Fi actually connected up here, and started work. It was relaxing, looking out over the tops of the houses, the sun high overhead, wispy clouds swirling gently across the crystalline blue sky, the wind crisp and fresh-smelling as it blew through the leaves of the trees. The soft whispering noise was very companionable.  
Iwaizumi’s great-aunt’s house was definitely one of the biggest, and definitely the tallest, in the area. From here, Oikawa could marvel at all the different colours of the rooves, the greens of the trees and the blue mountains in the distance. It was very pretty, here. Tokyo was striking and full of life, beautiful in its own way, but Miyagi was something else.  
Oikawa managed to, much to his incredulity, finish everything. It turned out he did in fact understand what the lesson and textbook was on about. Feeling satisfied, he closed his laptop, then slowly opened it again. He felt happy, but a little flat. He wanted loudness and people, still. Surely there were places to go around here? He googled it, and laughed. Miyagi wasn’t quite as quiet as it wanted people to think. Oikawa would get his fun, as long as he got back within a few hours.  
However, just as he’d got down from the roof and was writing a note to Iwaizumi, because of course he’d worry, because he was _deeply_ in love with Oikawa, Iwaizumi came back. Oikawa felt strangely cheated; Iwaizumi had impeccable but frustrating timing. Oikawa panicked for a moment, caught between hiding (an idea that would seem laughably ridiculous later) and acting natural, ending up with him frozen in position in the middle of the sitting room with a distinctly sheepish look on his face.  
Iwaizumi came in the door in a flurry of an autumn leaves, wearing a scarf and a murderous glare.  
Oikawa, feeling strangely like he should run, took an uneasy step backward. Iwaizumi followed him. Just as Oikawa was about to start making excuses, Iwaizumi said something totally unexpected. ‘Trashykawa. I need your help.’  
*  
‘Can’t you just tell them no? You’re scary enough, they’ll listen to you,’ Oikawa said blithely, trying to cover up his jealousy.  
‘You saw them when they were here, didn’t you?’ Iwaizumi replied urgently, ignoring Oikawa, ‘could you not tell what kind of people they are? And they practically _begged_ me. Listen, when Nishinoya and Kuroo organise a party together, people get so excited they drive to the venue from a few towns over. They are _insane_. The people and the parties. I really do not want to go to it. Unfortunately, Nishinoya told me, and I quote: “if I don’t see you within half an hour of it starting, I’ll bring Ryuu and we will come over and drag you there.”’  
‘So? You’re bigger than them. Knock them out and hide them in a bush or something.’  
Iwaizumi looked at him darkly, half-exasperated, half-annoyed. ‘You’re in a weird mood, Shittykawa. Don’t underestimate those two. You will regret it.’  
Oikawa felt very angry, for some reason. ‘What’re you trying to get at here, Iwaizumi? And if you’re leading up to asking me for a favour, that’s really not how you should address someone,’ he sniffed, head high.  
He felt bad, then. Iwaizumi looked genuinely worried. ‘Fine. But if you could just tell them that one of my professors emailed me with extra work or something, then –’ he mumbled something incomprehensible.  
Oikawa raised his eyebrows at him. Iwaizumi went red. ‘Then I’ll… I’ll owe you one. You can even go in my place. Just make sure they don’t come here and drag me to some shit party.’  
Oikawa brightened considerably. Iwaizumi _wouldn’t_ be going to the party (why would it have been bad, again?), Oikawa would get to have some fun, and Iwaizumi would owe him one. It was perfect in every way conceivable. Oikawa grinned at Iwaizumi. ‘Alright then, Iwa-chan.’ He began to contemplate ways in which he could Iwaizumi pay off his debt. These remarkably pleasant thoughts were then rudely interrupted by Iwaizumi’s phone ringing loudly.  
Iwaizumi took it out of his pocket as Oikawa looked over his shoulder nosily. The caller ID read “Annoying Bedhead Cat”. Oikawa could guess who that was. Iwaizumi thrust his phone at him. ‘You answer.’  
Smirking, feeling superior, he pressed the green button. ‘Hey.’  
‘Iwaizumi? Who’s this? Is that you, Oikawa? The serve guy? Listen, is Iwaizumi there?’  
Iwaizumi shook his head frantically, giving Oikawa a look that said: “if you say yes, I will murder you, boil your guts, cut them into pieces and send them to everyone you know in small envelopes”.  
Oikawa got the message. ‘No, he’s busy. His professor set him extra work.’  
‘Did he ask you to say that?’  
Damn. Kuroo was good.  
‘Nope. He really is.’  
Kuroo hummed like he didn’t really believe him. It was frustrating, since Oikawa was quite proud of his lying skills.  
‘Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. I’m coming to pick him up anyway. Thanks, demon boy.’  
‘You know, anyone could hear you saying that.’  
‘No one’s gonna know what I mean. And, from the rumours around, you’re not too worried about people finding out.’  
Oikawa grinned, but it was more a baring of teeth than anything else. ‘Why, thank you, Annoying Bedhead Cat.’  
Kuroo laughed. ‘So that’s what he’s got me as in his phone, huh? Anyway, tell Iwaizumi I’ll be here in five minutes.’  
Oikawa obliged, then hung up. Kuroo was a tricky one. ‘He said he’ll be here in five minutes.’ Iwaizumi groaned. ‘At least you tried.’ Oikawa was puzzled. He was expected to be punched. Iwaizumi solemnly got his wallet out of his pocket, checked the charge percentage on his phone, and walked reluctantly towards the door, just as Kuroo pulled up.  
Even at this distance, Oikawa could see him wink.  
*  
Some hours later, Oikawa was sincerely regretting not protesting and keeping Iwaizumi with him. His boredom was so acute it was almost tangible. He’d watched _Alien_ , revelling in the gore, started _E.T._ , changed his mind, watched _The Empire Strikes Back_ and was halfway through _The Force Awakens_ when he had to stop and acknowledge the fact he was likely to get friction burn from changing positions on the sofa so often.  
He was currently watching Fin and Po interact (interjected with shouts of: ‘get married already!’) upside down, his head lolling over the seat cushion, his long legs far up the wall, the back of the sofa supporting his thighs. He’d shifted between laying across the cushions with his feet coming off the end, using the armrest as back support, curling up in a ball, sitting normally, hunching over cross-legged and some other more acrobatic ones in constant succession. His favourite “I Love U(FO)” t-shirt was suffering, severely rumpled.  
He’d only started watching stuff after serving for a while. After he felt satisfied, darkness falling like someone was slowly painting the sky dark blue, Oikawa went inside. Now, the mysterious painter had sloshed a bucket of black over everything. The only things that seemed to exist were the bite of the cold on the windows that weren’t covered by curtains, the light of the TV, Oikawa’s consciousness, and the thoughts of Iwaizumi that seemed to be leaving his mind to flit about the room like birds.  
Oikawa wasn’t hungry, or thirsty, or tired. He didn’t see Rey running across the screen. He didn’t hear the soft night noises layered over with high-pitched laser sound effects. He didn’t feel the softness of the blue sofas. The only thing Oikawa could remember and feel and hear was Iwaizumi. The world seemed to be dreaming, everything was blurry. Oikawa drifted off to sleep.  
*  
‘Shit.’ Someone said, with no real venom behind it. It seemed like a casually stated fact. Oikawa sat up, bleary-eyed. What day was it? It was definitely the weekend, Oikawa knew… Unplanned naps made waking up a surreal experience.  
The speaker of the expletive walked into the room, but Oikawa already knew who it was. He could find Iwaizumi’s voice anywhere. The lights came on, showing Iwaizumi in his full glory. He looked oddly scruffy, and very tired. Oikawa resisted the urge to laugh. Was he drunk?  
All humorous thoughts left him at the speed of light as Iwaizumi’s knees buckled. Oikawa rushed forward to catch him. The smell of alcohol clung to him, but it was faint. He wasn’t that drunk, then. Just tired and a little frazzled. Oikawa hauled him over to the sofa, feeling very responsible. Ushiwaka should be proud: he was looking after someone. Iwaizumi groaned softly as Oikawa half-dropped him onto the pale fabric – he was heavy.  
Oikawa went to get him some water, but came back to find that Iwaizumi had rolled onto his front while he’d been in the kitchen. Oikawa settled instead for a blanket. He sprinted up the stairs to get one, and stumbled down again to spread it over Iwaizumi. But something was wrong. A pillow. He needed a pillow. Oikawa was about to get one when a deliciously delightful idea wormed its way into his brain. Iwaizumi needed no pillow, after all. He had Oikawa. Saying Oikawa would be more than happy to oblige would’ve been a gross understatement.  
Suddenly, Iwaizumi sat up, fully awake. ‘God, it’s so hot in here.’ And with that, he took his shirt off, looked around him like he thought he was dreaming, and promptly went back to sleep, leaving Oikawa to stare at his slumbering form in shock.  
Oikawa, trying to be brave (though why was he so nervous in the first place?), went ahead with his plan after he’d confirmed Iwaizumi was asleep again. Lifting him up, he put Iwaizumi’s head in his lap, then sat back in fear. Iwaizumi slept on. Then, Oikawa took a moment to marvel at the situation. He’d just started what he was sure would be his long and illustrious career as Iwaizumi’s pillow. He was so blessed.  
Iwaizumi shifted in his sleep once more, and Oikawa tensed. The blanket slid down Iwaizumi’s back, leaving his smooth skin to the open air and Oikawa’s eyes. It was broad and tanned. Without even knowing what he was doing, Oikawa dragged his fingers across it. Iwaizumi sighed. Feeling like his had was possessed, he stroked in small circles, back and forth, admiring the muscles under the taught skin. Iwaizumi was as beautiful as he was strong. Oikawa’s face was hot.  
He carried on like this for minutes, watching Iwaizumi’s breath ruffle his hair. Down his spine, across his lower back, up to his shoulders. His skin was so soft. Oikawa almost sighed himself. He was so in love, it was almost unreal.  
Ushiwaka would let him go, now. Love was, after all, a form of respect. But Oikawa really did not want to leave, ever.  
Up and down.  
Around and around.  
Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi. He still hadn’t stirred.  
Oikawa was asleep. 


	3. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The promised angst. Sorry for shortness and making Iwa and Tooru suffer. I promise it's for a reason.  
> HELL YEAH I FIGURED OUT HOW TO SPACE IT OUT! THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH - A SAD ONE, YET STILL A BREAKTHROUGH.

Iwaizumi Hajime was dreaming strange, twisted, beautiful dreams. The parts that were twisted involved scenes from the party he’d just attended. Nishinoya pranced across the ceiling, which was now growing long grasses and had slender gazelle leaping across it, with Asahi in his arms as he laughed and joined in Kuroo’s chanting. Kuroo was stirring a huge cast iron cauldron with Kenma in it, who was going round and round and round and round… Iwaizumi felt sick just looking at it. Kenma had wanted to come to the real-life party even less than he had, and evidently the dream-party even more so.

 

Bokuto was gliding around in a floating glass volleyball, trying to coax Akaashi, who looked depressed and disgusted at the same time, inside of it. Annoyed, Bokuto leapt out, leaving it to shrink. When it was small enough to hold, Bokuto served it at Kuroo’s head. Daichi and Sugawara looked each other and sighed, blowing everyone away on the force of the wind from between their lips, carrying themselves with it. 

 

Iwaizumi was anchored to the ground, watching helplessly as the light and laughter died away, receding into the distance, leaving Iwaizumi in the heavy black darkness. 

 

Suddenly, Iwaizumi was very small. He was scared. Something whispered behind him. His feet, now free, propelled him forward as he skittered away from the source of the noise. 

 

Suddenly, everything was burnt away by two sources of light, one on Iwaizumi’s right, and one on his left. The right, pure white, and the left icy blue. 

 

Standing in the light from the right was Oikawa. 

 

Standing in the light from the left was Oikawa.

 

On the right, Oikawa was, as usual, tall and beautiful and laughing, surrounded by people. He beckoned to Iwaizumi, looking delighted to see him.

 

On the left, in a sea of cool blue, stood Oikawa, all alone. His one red eye shone a scintillating red, his skin covered in leathery scales. He was very quiet, but still he smiled, just for Iwaizumi. He reached towards him with both hands imploringly. 

 

Iwaizumi, instinctively, walked to the left. This Oikawa _needed_ him. They both wanted him, but one of them had no one behind him, apart from flickering shadows that chanted their disappointment. _Silly child… Grow up…You’ll never be good enough…I’m disappointed in you, Tooru…_

 

Iwaizumi hated those voices. Oikawa was silly, but he wasn’t as shallow as he seemed. Iwaizumi had stolen his computer to look at his marks before. Oikawa wasn’t stupid. He played volleyball well. He had lots of talents. 

 

He glowered at the shadows and at the other Oikawa in the white light, who now seemed very fake, and hugged demon Oikawa tight. Oikawa was misunderstood, and had been allowed too much free reign. Deep down, he was good. He needed a counter, a check on him, something to balance him out.

 

Oikawa’s red eye was wide with surprise. Iwaizumi smiled at him, feeling very happy. He’d made the right choice. He always would do.

 

Suddenly, with a ragged intake of breath, Iwaizumi woke up. He felt happy, but he couldn’t remember why. He’d been dreaming, but what had happened was falling away from him like a pebble down a bottomless well.

 

He was so warm, covered by a blanket, on his front, his body moulded to something not soft but still comfy, like it had been made for him. His kept his eyes closed as he tried to remember how he’d got home. He remembered opening the front door… But not going to bed. Maybe he was too drunk to remember. He didn’t care. All he wanted now was to sleep in this pool of warmth, breathing in and out and in and out, slower and slower, his heartbeat regulating. But he couldn’t quite drift off. Whatever he was lying on was shaking. 

 

Iwaizumi opened his eyes, then sat up in shock.

 

He’d been lying chest and shoulders across Oikawa’s lap, and he’d been _happy_ about it. Iwaizumi felt himself starting to get flustered, but stopped when he saw Oikawa’s face. Oikawa was asleep, sitting up with his legs stretched out, which Iwaizumi was lying across, his back to the armrest and head leaning on the tops of the cushions. There was no other word for it. He was absolutely _adorable_ , his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. But now, his face scrunched, and Oikawa shook once more, murmuring something, evidently in distress. In Iwaizumi’s sleepy state, his heart went out to him. He looked so vulnerable, so unguarded, when asleep. 

 

Oikawa took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry…’ he whispered.

 

Iwaizumi could take it no longer, and shook him awake. Oikawa opened his eyes blearily. He looked excruciatingly, painfully sad; defeated, like he knew he deserved the punishment of the bad dream that plagued him. Not caring about their tangled limbs, the clammy heat between them, or why they were laying like this at all, Iwaizumi hugged Oikawa, the feeling pleasant. His arms were warm around Oikawa’s broad back. He pulled him to his body, wanting desperately to comfort him. For some reason, Iwaizumi felt like it was his duty, his job to help Oikawa. And God, did Oikawa need it.

 

Oikawa’s eyes were now wide, and he was blushing furiously, his cheeks a fiery red. But he looked, if anything, a little glad. Iwaizumi pulled him closer, resting his head against his body. Under the smooth skin, something was beating very, very fast, Iwaizumi wondered why that was. Was Oikawa angry with him? Maybe he didn’t appreciate randomly being hugged after having a bad dream.

 

Iwaizumi thought of these worries, but squashed them down. Strangely, he didn’t care. He _was_ going to hug Oikawa, and there was nothing he could do about it. Slowly, Iwaizumi fell asleep again, his head on Oikawa’s shoulder. 

 

A few minutes later, he smiled as he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist.

 

The whole time, the furious pace of the heartbeat did not slow.  
*  
When Iwaizumi woke for the second time, he had a crick in his back. He opened his eyes, thinking that his previous dream had been eerily but pleasingly realistic. He really needed to get up, now. He had homework. But as Iwaizumi opened his eyes, he realised the sweet, shampoo-like smell greeting his nose was not in fact from sheets, but from a mop of silky brown hair. Iwaizumi suddenly became very aware of his body.

 

He was draped across Oikawa Tooru like a doll.

 

_Oh._

 

_My._

 

_God._

 

That hadn’t been a dream, then. 

 

Iwaizumi lurched upward and stood shakily, taking a few steps back. _Oh, my good God. Whatwhatwhatwhyhowidon’tinderstandwhatwhenhow –_

 

Oikawa was half awake. ‘Iwa-chan…?’

 

But the words were lost on Iwaizumi’s ears, as he’d already rushed halfway up the stairs. He dressed in a whirlwind of fabric, and raced back downstairs to the door, determined to get outside to clear his head, so he could think. 

 

Unluckily for him, Oikawa was waiting. He cornered him by the door. ‘Iwaizumi!’

 

Iwaizumi pushed past and escaped into the cooling air.

 

*

 

When Iwaizumi came home two hours later, Oikawa was dressed, hair brushed as usual. Neither of them mentioned the hug. The atmosphere surrounding them was stiff and heavy. It didn’t feel right, but Iwaizumi felt too embarrassed to address the problem, certain Oikawa wanted to confront him and ask him just what the _hell_ that had all been about. But what Iwaizumi was most afraid of was the fact that he didn’t know the answer to that question.

 

Over the next few days, they remained harsh and formal, playing a parody of their previous comfort with each other: Oikawa would still teasingly call him “Iwa-chan” and joke with him, and Iwaizumi would get pissed and insult him right back, but there was no heart beneath their jibes. Oikawa’s red eye was dead-looking, and his brown eye was flat and still as mud. They played volleyball, but stopped earlier. Iwaizumi opted to leave Oikawa and his alien films to himself, and go and read upstairs. When he came down again, the TV would always be off, and Oikawa would be stretched out across one of the sofas with his eyes closed. It was unnerving, because Iwaizumi never knew if Oikawa was asleep or awake. 

 

The icy blue of the fabric reminded Iwaizumi of his dream and the more demon-like Oikawa. The dream itself had slowly come back to him, in dribs and drabs. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel that it meant something, but he couldn’t figure out what. Why had he felt like he’d made the right choice? What had he been choosing between, really?

 

Iwaizumi began actively avoiding him after about a week, as that was the point when the panic had really set in. He valued Oikawa, even after knowing him for a short amount of time. He thought, if he distanced himself, he’d feel less pain when Oikawa actually said something to him later on. Part of himself wanted to know, if Oikawa meant so much to him, why he was actively trying to distance himself. It didn’t make sense in his brain, but Iwaizumi, for once, was taking the easy way out. He felt better when he didn’t have to awkwardly interact with Oikawa, weighing every word and movement – every breath. It made him feel physically sick.

 

Iwaizumi knew it was ridiculous. It was a twisted, convoluted problem that wasn’t even a problem, truly. But the big question remained. If Oikawa wasn’t annoyed with him, why was he just as awkward as Iwaizumi? Iwaizumi had his answer within the question – Oikawa was, only wasn’t showing it. Maybe that was how he showed anger – torturing someone to death through fake conversations and pained smiles. Come to think of it, Iwaizumi had never seen Oikawa angry before – shouting angry, that was. It wasn’t an idea that suited him.

 

*

 

If Iwaizumi had to describe the next couple of weeks, he would have said it was like the colour grey, with patches of sickly green. He went to his classes, did his work and studied, came home to Ayaka’s, and spoke a few words to Oikawa. Sometimes, they watched films, but Iwaizumi would never smile, and Oikawa would never comment on things or clap with excitement.

 

There was no satisfaction in the slam of the ball over the net, or getting a good result on a test, or annoying Oikawa with an insult.

 

Why?

 

Why did this bother him so much?

 

Another week passed, the days melting into each other. It felt like one long hour in a boring class where you understood nothing and it was cold and everything was the _same_.

 

How time dragged on, in its excruciatingly painful way.

 

It was harder than ever to tell what Oikawa was thinking.

 

What was Oikawa to him that he could make him feel so embarrassed, make him hurt so much, make him feel so sad?

 

Oh.

 

_Oh. ___

__

__The dream._ _

__

__Maybe he’d chosen wrong?_ _


	4. A Ray of Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa decides to do something about the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter has lots of hugs

Oikawa Tooru was in pain. He hadn’t been punched or slapped or kicked or stabbed, yet still he was in pain. His heart had a huge, monstrous hand squeezing it tight, so hard it made his breath hitch.

Immediately before the pain had started, Oikawa had been glowingly happy. The price he’d paid was the loss of someone who’d meant a lot to him, who made him feel whole again, who had dark hair and smooth skin and a grumpy expression that sometimes smoothed out like water on a sunny day. 

He’d been dreaming terrible dreams. Oikawa knew better than anyone else that his behaviour towards others had to elicit at least some form of punishment, and he was right. He’d been sent away. But now, with the presence of a certain someone, that wasn’t so much of a punishment as a blessing. So Fate had conjured up something else to get to him. Nightmares. But Oikawa was determined not to let them get to him. He never spoke or about them or even thought about them until the moments just before sleeping, and then he’d try to be optimistic, to go to sleep and hope for good things.

He’d been having one such dream when it had happened. He’d woken up only to find Iwaizumi staring at him like he understood, pulling him close. Oikawa had felt so _strong_ in that moment, even if he was glad he was sitting down – a half-naked Iwaizumi hugging him made him feel like he’d fall over. The strength came only in the figurative sense.

Iwaizumi had taken everything in that dream and set fire to it and laughed and hugged him tight, like Oikawa was _his_. Oikawa didn’t know what Iwaizumi meant by that unspoken statement – if he was _his_ as his friend or his boyfriend or something else – but he wanted to be his more than anything else in the world. Iwaizumi was like a healing balm, which Oikawa desperately needed. A healing balm and a cure.

So when Iwaizumi had rejected him afterwards, standing up with an expression of horror and regret, Oikawa felt a spear made of pain and broken promises drive straight through his gut. When he pulled it out, he bled all his happiness onto the ground. Oikawa was slowly dying, and there was nothing he could do but pretend like everything was okay, and that he wasn’t feeling like shit. Iwaizumi didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Oikawa followed his lead, knowing he was just going to sink further if he did so, but not knowing what else to do. 

What could he do about it if Iwaizumi had been drunker than Oikawa had thought, and had been kind to him, but hadn’t meant it when sober? What could he do if it had all been an accident?

When Iwaizumi started avoiding him, it had gotten even worse. So much worse. If a hand had clenched his heart before, now a dagger was cutting it to pieces and scattering it on the wind. Knowing Iwaizumi _actually_ hated him now made Oikawa move into that dangerous stage where he bypassed crying and went straight to staring ahead, feeling empty, like a glass shell.

He had to do something about it, even if it meant only getting back a tiny amount of what they’d had before.

Please. _Please_. It was only a hug. Why must he be punished for a hug? A tiny luxury in this sprawling maze of mountains where you could fall off into despair at any moment. A ray of sunshine through the scowling rain clouds. _Please_. Don’t let it be that Iwaizumi doesn’t care anymore. Don’t let it be that he never cared in the first place.

*

Oikawa had a reckless, practically suicidal plan. If it worked (and Oikawa knew that it would be more than a miracle if it did), he would be happy again. It would all be over. If it didn’t, then at least he would have tried. Then at least he could talk to Ushiwaka in defeat, and be sent to be punished somewhere else, even if it meant he’d be made to stay away longer. It would be a mercy, at that point.

_Please, God,_ he thought, then stopped. A demon praying to God. How ironic. 

*

Oikawa was sitting on one of Ayaka’s blue sofas, fidgeting. He’d got no work done that day, nor had he expected to. He watched the mahogany grandfather clock intensely. The seconds squeezed slowly by, laughing at him. _Little shits._

Eight minutes.

Three.

Two minutes until Iwaizumi would get back. 

_Hurry up!_

The door opened.

Oikawa had to half hold his legs back to keep himself from running. He walked with careful, measured steps around the corner and looked at Iwaizumi, with his rucksack on, spiky hair messier than normal, brow furrowed in distaste as his shoe caught when he took it off. He was so beautiful. And deadly – deadly in the way that he could make Oikawa feel impossibly happy or unfathomably sad. Oikawa wanted to be _something_ to him again. Anything else than whatever he was right now.

Oikawa took a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders. ‘Iwaizumi?’

Iwaizumi looked up, the quickly away when he saw Oikawa’s expression. ‘I’m sort of busy right now – I have a lot of homework to catch up on…’

Iwaizumi walked past him quickly. Oikawa followed, starting to speak, but Iwaizumi carried on into the garden. Oikawa slammed to door behind them both as he followed Iwaizumi out into the golden afternoon light, feeling angry. Why wouldn’t Iwaizumi face him? Wasn’t he eager to make Oikawa leave?

Oikawa fumed as he looked at Iwaizumi’s broad back. ‘You know, running away from me isn’t going to solve the problem here. I didn’t think you were a coward.’

Iwaizumi spun on his heel, incensed. Oikawa felt a sort of savage satisfaction. There it was. Some of the old Iwaizumi back. ‘I am not _running_ from you. I just don’t want to talk to you. I’m surprised you still even want to talk to me, after everything.’ He clenched his teeth. ‘Now is as good of a time as it’ll ever be, so I’ll just say it. If you hate me for hugging you, just leave already so I don’t have to feel guilty every time I see you! Do us both a favour!’

_What?_

Oikawa couldn’t tell left from right, up from down. For a moment, he forgot how to speak. ‘You’re not… angry with me?’

‘Of course I’m angry at you! Why the hell would I _not_ be pissed if someone called me a coward?’

‘No, not about that. I thought…I thought you hated me for hugging you.’

Iwaizumi looked at him in confusion. ‘But I hugged you, not the other way round.’

Oikawa felt strange. ‘Well, yeah, but I sort of…hugged you back.’

Iwaizumi waved his hand impatiently. ‘I don’t get what’s going on here. Why would I be angry at you, again? Aside from calling me a coward. _You’re_ the one that’s supposed to be angry at _me_.’

‘Are you an idiot?’ Oikawa asked, everything suddenly falling into place. He understood now. Never, in all his life, had he felt so relieved. _Weeks,_ he’d wasted. Weeks. Hours and hours of feeling desperately sad, all for nothing. He was the idiot here. He wasn’t angry with Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi wasn’t angry with him. This was like some clichéd shoujo manga. How the fuck did this actually happen in real life, misunderstandings like this? Surely there were rules against something so insane actually happening, and making people so sad?

Acting on pure instinct, Oikawa surged forward and pulled Iwaizumi into his arms, just as Iwaizumi had done to him weeks earlier. He rested his chin on his head and squeezed him tight, arms encircling the back which Oikawa so admired. He revelled in the warmth of him, the grumpiness of him, his harsh beauty. 

Iwaizumi struggled to put his head back to look at Oikawa, almost unable to move within his tight embrace. Oikawa smiled widely as he saw that Iwaizumi was blushing furiously, and didn’t look angry at all – just bewildered. He raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s this for?’

Oikawa pushed Iwaizumi’s head back onto his collarbone. ‘Revenge.’

*

The world was light again. All the colours were brighter, the air crisper, the food better tasting, the alien films better. They were always better with someone to watch them with. Especially when that person was Iwaizumi.

At the moment, however, they were watching a horror film, Oikawa curled up at one end as he held a pillow to peak around, Iwaizumi sitting primly on the other end and laughing occasionally as the characters made stupid decisions. Oikawa simply couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t scared.

‘Iwa-chan! Don’t laugh! He’s getting chopped up!’

Iwaizumi didn’t look even remotely apologetic. ‘But he literally _went into the room where the killer was_ when he told her to come in! His friend _just_ died in there. He heard him screaming! Why in the fuck’s name did he not just run? It’s hilarious.’

‘Maybe he was being loyal,’ Oikawa sniffed primly.

Iwaizumi smirked. ‘Loyal? His friend was _obviously_ dead. His blood came out from under the door! He’d be more loyal if he ran away and told someone so people could honour his memory.’

Oikawa scowled darkly. ‘You’re no fun, Iwa-chan.’

‘I’d honestly rather watch _Mars Attacks!_ again.’

Oikawa grinned and stood up. ‘As you wish!’

‘Don’t quote _The Princess Bride_ at me.’

Oikawa fluttered his eyelashes. ‘But you’re as pretty as princess Buttercup, Iwa-chan.’

‘Shut up, Trashykawa, and find the damn remote.’

Oikawa obliged, grinning, and stood up. He felt ridiculously happy to be able to talk so casually with Iwaizumi again. He just hoped that the mysterious power above that seemed to hate his guts didn’t decide to ruin everything again. 

He stretched luxuriously, swinging his arms above his head, knowing being so slow about finding the remote would piss Iwaizumi off. He froze in surprise, his arms stiffening above his head, as he felt a pair of strong tanned arms hug him from behind. His heart beat as wildly as the first time Iwaizumi had done it, his cheeks flushing scarlet. He felt safe, in Iwaizumi’s arms. Struggling to keep his voice level, he took a deep breath in and cleared his throat. ‘What’s this for?’

Iwaizumi let go and walked around to grin at him while sauntering into the kitchen. ‘Revenge.’

*

_This is it_ , Oikawa thought a couple of hours later. If this was going to be turned into a competition, then Iwaizumi was _so_ going to lose, especially since it involved hugging each other. Oikawa would take any excuse to do that. He would become a hug monster. A hug demon. The winner of all competitions that involved getting to feel Iwaizumi’s muscles. Not that he’d let there be any competitors. 

Oikawa executed his next hug attack while invisible, partly because he hadn’t done it in a while and it was pretty fun, and partly because he really wanted to mess with Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi was been in his room, folding something, bent over his bed. Oikawa crept in stealthily and poked Iwaizumi in the back of the head. Iwaizumi whipped around, only to frown, perplexed, when he saw nothing.

Iwaizumi looked up at the ceiling then down at the floor, most likely looking for something that had fallen. Oikawa felt strangely vulnerable – it seemed like Iwaizumi was looking him up and down. Oikawa poked him again, and this time Iwaizumi put on an expression that was halfway between a smirk and a grimace of annoyance. 

‘Very funny, Shittykawa. Show yourself.’

Oikawa remained resolutely invisible.

Sighing, Iwaizumi put two hands out in front of himself, like he was feeling his way around in the dark. ‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this.’

‘No one’s _making_ you do this, Iwa-chan.’

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. ‘It speaks!’

‘I am not an _it!_ ’

Iwaizumi grinned his gorgeous grin. At that point, Oikawa gave in, made himself visible and crashed into Iwaizumi, almost knocking him over with the force of his affection. 

‘Oi! Get off me, Trashykawa!’

‘Nope! No can do!’ Oikawa said, in a sing song voice. He really loved this game.

*

They carried on like this for several days, much to Oikawa’s delight. It had gotten to the point where Oikawa would just sit on Iwaizumi and refuse to get off. Oikawa thought it was hilarious, but Iwaizumi thought it was anything but, and told him so by pushing him heavily onto the floor. 

A few days after that, Iwaizumi got his own revenge for that incident by putting _Alien_ on voluntarily and then sitting in Oikawa’s lap, knowing that Oikawa wouldn’t want to get up, as he’d miss something. Iwaizumi seemed to be under the impression that this would annoy Oikawa, but ended up being annoyed himself when he realised that Oikawa did not in fact view this as an inconvenience – quite the contrary: he loved it. Oikawa’s delight only grew when Iwaizumi fell asleep on him, his head leaning back onto his shoulder. Having Iwaizumi’s chiselled face so close to his own excited Oikawa for more reasons than one. Firstly, he was winning (again) and secondly…

Oikawa was _so_ in love with Iwaizumi. It wasn’t like he could deny it. But he felt a little sad, as he knew that Iwaizumi didn’t feel the same way. He viewed this whole hugging competition business as a game which he intended to win. But at least Oikawa knew that Iwaizumi liked him enough and was comfortable enough with him to engage in so much physical contact.

It was enough to be close to him. Oikawa couldn’t dig himself into a rut – he needed to be grateful for what he had. But, at quiet points during the day, when Oikawa was deep in thought, he couldn’t help but think that yeah, he was lucky to even have Iwaizumi back after what had happened, but also that Iwaizumi was like a drug: having too much of him would leave you addicted for life. Oikawa didn’t know if he wanted to go down that road if his feelings were not going to be reciprocated. One sided love would only end in more pain. Oikawa should know, though he’d never actually been the one doing the loving before. He’d been the one causing the pain. Being on the other side only made Oikawa realise why Ushiwaka had punished him so harshly, and he hated it.

But he just couldn’t help wanting to be close to Iwaizumi. Leaving would also make him hurt. Oikawa hoped that, with luck, he could carry on being his friend, or whatever the hell it was they were. The way Iwaizumi blushed in his presence sometimes gave him hope. Maybe, just maybe…

*

Iwaizumi was tired. He yawned like a lion on the savanna and checked the time. _Shit._ He should have gone to bed hours ago. He had classes tomorrow. He looked over at Oikawa and indulged in a secret smile while looking at his face. Oikawa was more tired than he was, already almost asleep. He looked cute, with his eyes half lidded, his face bathed in the glow from the film they were watching together, lying curled up. He looked deceptively small, like that.

Iwaizumi stood to go and get ready for bed, and Oikawa followed suit, flicking off the TV. As Oikawa walked towards the stairs, a rug slipped, tripping him up. Iwaizumi watched him fall seemingly in slow motion, then darted forward to catch him. He laughed at Oikawa’s shocked face as he realised he’d nearly hit the ground hard.

‘Watch where you’re going, idiot.’

Oikawa pouted at him, then laughed a little. ‘Thanks, Iwa-chan.’

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. ‘That’s what…friends are for.’ 

Oikawa grinned, but for a second, Iwaizumi could have sworn that he looked pained. He felt the same way. Somehow, he didn’t feel that “friend” was the right word. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to gather up his courage and be brave enough to change it.


	5. Winning Will Take a Little More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone wins the hugging game.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, after the world's longest wait. I am sorry, fellow IwaOi lovers, and thank you for your patience. I fear the next break may be even longer. I have FIVE exams coming up. FIVE. We just finished like 8 - I think the main objective of of the world is to crush students into the ground and then hold them there and laugh until they slowly die. I, for one, will welcome death as it comes, as long as there's Haikyuu in the afterlife. If there isn't, then I'm here to stay, and the world had better watch out.  
> Without further ado, I present my children in the following, acting like the dorks they are.  
> UPDATE: I WILL BE ABLE TO UPDATE SOON!!! My finals are over in a week. Thanks for your patience :D

It was becoming very hard not to admit that Iwaizumi loved this game, even if it was incredibly stupid. He was just so unbelievably happy that Oikawa wanted to talk and interact with him again. If all it took was hugging him, then Iwaizumi would do it. He liked being close to him, it was comfortable and happy, but it also made his heart beat faster and his cheeks heat up. Not good signs, for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi was well aware that this willingness, this want, this _need_ to be close to Oikawa at all times wasn’t a friend-like feeling. He wasn’t even sure why he hated to admit it to himself. He definitely had a crush on Oikawa. He knew that “revenge” wasn’t the real reason why he’d hugged Oikawa that time. It was on impulse, almost. He wanted desperately to be closer to him. And the feeling was only getting more intense.

Iwaizumi felt like he could see straight through Oikawa, sometimes, but at others he felt Oikawa was like a flat plain of waving grasses – you could keep walking and staring forever, but you’d never reach the horizon. 

Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa probably didn’t see him as someone he could start a serious relationship with. While Oikawa pushed the bounds of close friendship frequently, Iwaizumi knew it wasn’t because he actually liked him. It was teasing, playful and testing. He wanted to see if could break Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi was determined not to let him do so. So he retaliated by hugging him right back. 

He wasn’t scared of Oikawa’s pretty face. Or annoyingly charming personality. Or sudden cute moments where he was relaxed and carefree. No. Anything but.

But he really couldn’t stop the blush. Iwaizumi just hoped that Oikawa thought it was from anger or embarrassment. Though if Oikawa was even half the playboy he sounded like, he could probably tell. The fact he did nothing about it was more than enough proof for Iwaizumi that he wasn’t interested beyond tormenting him. Iwaizumi was fairly confident in his acting skills. He’d just carry on like before.

But really, Oikawa was so hot it was rude. It was inconsiderate of the rest of humanity who just had to go about their lives looking like potatoes, not gods. He pissed Iwaizumi off. But he couldn’t hate him. After everything that happened, the way Oikawa looked at him when he hugged him in the garden showed Iwaizumi that Oikawa valued him at least a little, even if it wasn’t quite in the way that Iwaizumi wanted. And God, was that hard for him to admit. He wanted Oikawa for himself. 

What an inconvenience.

When Iwaizumi said ‘revenge’ to Oikawa, he also meant revenge for playing with him, and also nothing at all – he just wanted to be close. But he was going to win this stupid competition. He was going to crush Oikawa like he crushed other teams in volleyball matches. He was going to smash that stupid beautiful face into the ground. How dare he make it hard for Iwaizumi to sleep at night? How dare he be so perfect and rough around the edges at the same time? How dare make Iwaizumi wonder what his lips would feel like – 

Too far. 

Iwaizumi did not need to think about that. He did not need to let Oikawa have that much power over him. Getting up from the garden chair he’d been thinking in, Iwaizumi walked inside and sighed as he saw the pile of books on the table. He had so much homework to do, and not enough time to do it in. He had tonight and the weekend get two essays and seven questions that involved extensive research done, as well as organise all of his other essays and completed documents into relevant folders on his laptop so he could study from them later on, which he’d been putting off for a while. It wasn’t like him, but just lately he thought he’d been lucky to have even managed to get them done at all, since he’d had so much on his mind. Namely Oikawa. But Oikawa had so many different things tied to him that he filled up Iwaizumi’s head full to bursting.

Iwaizumi couldn’t decide if it was worrying or sort of nice, to be so engaged with one person. There was one thing both of his halves agreed upon, however: Oikawa was a problem.

He’d cause him pain at some point. He needed to lock Oikawa firmly in his box labelled “friends” and have done with it.

Iwaizumi wasn’t really feeling like work at the moment. He just felt bored, and like he wanted to read something comforting that he’d read a million times before, to pass the time. Oikawa wasn’t home. He nothing else to do if Oikawa wasn’t around to bully him into something.

_Wait, what?_

That was alarming. Iwaizumi had become so used to Oikawa that he relied on him to fill his free time. Iwaizumi hurriedly picked up the nearest book ( _Goodnight, Mister Tom_ , by Michelle Magorian) and sprawled across the sofa on his side with his legs up. He read a few words on a random page, but he couldn’t concentrate. The book gradually went slack in his fingers as he closed his eyes, “just to rest them”, he told himself. It was very peaceful, with the back door leading to the garden open, the biting air pouring across Iwaizumi’s skin, smelling crisp and fresh and sharp, like pine trees. He was nearly asleep in a matter of minutes. He took deep, slow breaths, not caring about the work he had to do. He was normally so organised; he was allowed to be lazy sometimes.

The front door thumped as it creaked open. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped wide, and he instinctively sat up. Oikawa was back.

There was a shuffling noise as Oikawa took his shoes off in the hallway, and Iwaizumi looked at the situation. He was smitten, and excited to meet Oikawa at the door. He was acting like one half of a married couple. God, the embarrassment. He was sickening.

Iwaizumi lay back down and pretended he was asleep, having no idea why he was doing so, conscious only of the fact that Oikawa was about to come around the corner. 

Heavy footsteps alerted Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s presence. He felt very nervous not being able to see his face, not being able to see if he was looking at Iwaizumi or not. He tried not to redden as he heard a soft laugh, warm and rich and golden as honey. A delightful laugh. All the same, Iwaizumi wondered what he was laughing at.

The footsteps came closer. Iwaizumi stiffened. There was a rustling noise as Oikawa took his coat off. The laugh came again, and then a word which made his heart stop. ‘Cute.’ He felt the light pressure of a wool coat being draped across him. The footsteps went further away, and Iwaizumi tried to slow him thrumming heartbeat. He felt like he had a tiny, glittering hummingbird in his chest, whipping its wings up and down as if it wanted to get away.

Suddenly, the footsteps came back. The hummingbird went wild. His cheeks burned. Iwaizumi prayed Oikawa wouldn’t notice. Suddenly he felt something touch his forehead. A hand, large and slightly callused, from volleyball, Iwaizumi assumed. Oikawa’s hand. There was a hum from above him. ‘You’re cold.’

This time, the footsteps went into the next room, and Iwaizumi heard the back door shut. He felt relieved that the supply of cool air had been shut off. He hadn’t realised he’d been freezing; his arms must have gone numb. 

He just hoped his blush wouldn’t be more pronounced now it was warmer. It was lucky Oikawa hadn’t touched his cheeks.

Oikawa. Caring for him. Oikawa calling him cute. What did this mean? For Iwaizumi? For…them?

Iwaizumi let these questions run through his mind at lightning speed, and pushed them away just as fast. There was no need to make assumptions. There could have been some dog outside he was calling cute. Yeah. 

Iwaizumi had never wanted to kill an imaginary dog so much in his life. 

_Thump, thump, thump._ Oikawa came back into the room. Iwaizumi tensed again as Oikawa stopped before him. Where was he going to go? Iwaizumi suddenly felt his legs being lifted. The sofa dipped as Oikawa sat down. He then let go of Iwaizumi’s legs, so his feet were across his lap.

Oikawa laughed an “Iwa-chan is going to be so pissed when he wakes up, I can’t wait” kind of laugh, soft and rumbling, and Iwaizumi tried not to scrunch his face up in annoyance.

Not so deep down, he was happy. Oikawa could have chosen any of the other sofas, but he chose the one Iwaizumi was on. Even if he was just trying to piss him off.

Oikawa’s hand patted Iwaizumi’s calf absently, and Iwaizumi fought to keep his cheeks from burning. A battle he quickly lost.

After a while, Iwaizumi realised many good things had happened on this sofa. He’d discovered that Oikawa was real and visible on this sofa, he’d watched alien films countless times with Oikawa on this sofa, he’d hugged him, sat on his lap, and now he was being close to him yet again.

Iwaizumi didn’t think he’d ever been so grateful to a piece of furniture in his life.

*

Iwaizumi had woken up feeling happy, which quickly deteriorated into a foul mood when he found Oikawa had left him and was now in the kitchen singing loudly to ‘Set Fire to the Rain’ and slamming the fridge door as he looked for food. Iwaizumi trudged towards the annoying demon making the noise and swung into the kitchen glaring. Oikawa did a double-take at the look on Iwaizumi’s face.

Iwaizumi, thankfully remembering he was supposed to have been asleep when Oikawa had gotten back, raised an eyebrow. ‘When did you get here? And stop making noise, for God’s sake. There _are_ neighbours, you know.’

Oikawa grinned at him pleasantly. ‘You woke up on the wrong side of the sofa! And I got back a couple of hours ago. Did you miss me?’

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shot up even further. Oikawa winced comically. ‘I take it that’s a no, then.’

Oikawa was very wrong, but he didn’t need to have any more teasing material, so Iwaizumi just smirked at him and budged him aside with his hip so he could get the bread out of the cupboard. Oikawa stumbled and looked offended, and Iwaizumi grinned at him evilly, feeling gratified that he was stronger than Oikawa despite the height difference. Oikawa sniffed, his nose in the air, and stalked off.

Iwaizumi looked at the clock (whose glass face was cracked, due to a _certain someone_ deciding it would be a good idea to set a volleyball inside the house – Iwaizumi was just glad it was a crappy clock from Ikea and not the grandfather clock) and decided that he could probably start making dinner. It was sort of early, but he was hungry. 

He got all the stuff out for making curry rice and busied himself chopping and thinking about how much rice he’d need – they both ate a lot, so it would probably be best to just finish of the packet… He’d put the rice on a bit later, once the curry sauce was closer to being done. What was missing? Iwaizumi looked at his ingredients. _Oh. Chicken._ How did he forget the most important thing? He got the chicken out from the fridge, and began. 

Behind him, one of the dining chairs scraped across the floor noisily as Oikawa stood. Iwaizumi registered this in his subconscious, but didn’t think about it much as he picked up a knife to cut the chicken. He sliced it into rough chunks and reached for next bit just as he felt arms encircle his waist from behind. He tensed immediately and the knife slid from his hand and back onto the chopping board. 

He relaxed just slightly with the realisation that the arms belonged to Oikawa, and then felt ridiculous. Whose arms did he think they’d be? Who else randomly hugged him? He was a giant fucking idiot.

But he still remained stiff, his heart beating fast. Just because it was Oikawa, it didn’t mean his cheeks would be any less red, his thoughts any less jumbled. More so, because it was him.

He felt so safe, so warm, so protected, unaware that he’d needed someone to shield him until now. Unconsciously, he leant back. There was a low vibration in the chest behind him – laughter. Iwaizumi’s cheeks burnt furiously, and he scowled. He wouldn’t let Oikawa win. Shakily, he reached for the next piece of chicken and began to cut it. His own chest thrummed as Oikawa laughed again.

‘Are you sure you should be using a knife when you’re so flustered, Iwa-chan?’

Shit. He’d noticed. He was teasing, surely. He must think the blush was from annoyance. Good…

Iwaizumi prized Oikawa’s arms off him, feeling cold in more than one way once Oikawa had stepped away. ‘Are you sure you should be teasing me when I have a knife in my hands, Shittykawa?’

Oikawa put a hand over his heart and gasped in mock horror. ‘ _Iwa-chan!_ ’ He took a large step back, and Iwaizumi felt the sudden urge to walk forward and close the gap between them. Oikawa raised his eyebrows and turned on his heel, flicking his hair out of his eyes. ‘This is abuse! Threatening me!’

‘May I just remind you that you’re a crazy demon who has damaged at least seven things in this house and is responsible for breaking the hearts of numerous people?’

Oikawa pouted. ‘You’d never kill me, Iwa-chan. You love me too much.’

Iwaizumi marched over to him and glared straight up into the liquid pools of colour that were Oikawa’s eyes. ‘Who said I was going to kill you?’ he breathed, ‘I might just torture you first.’

Oikawa’s eyes changed, opening wide. He seemed at a strange loss for words, which Iwaizumi found amusing – Oikawa not knowing what to say? How the tables had turned.

After a few moments of smirking at him, the full implications of what he’d just said hit him in the face, as well as the fact he was _very_ close to Oikawa. He backed away quickly, panicking and wondering if Oikawa thought he’d meant to sound so…bold. 

The fog from Oikawa’s eyes cleared, and Iwaizumi let loose the breath he’d been holding. 

‘Iwa-chan, so mean!’

*

Iwaizumi was full from dinner still. He’d been spiking Oikawa’s tosses for a full two hours, and the combination of a full stomach and the weariness caused by physical exertion made Iwaizumi want to do nothing more than stretch out and watch a film, then go to sleep. He went into the sitting room to do just that, but was interrupted by the nagging voice at the back of his mind. _Essays,_ it said. _Research_. 

_Fuck off,_ Iwaizumi replied. Tomorrow he was going to finish it all. He’d do it all in one go. _So there._ The voice scoffed at him, and Iwaizumi ignored it grandly, above having such arguments with his more sensible side.

Oikawa, coming in after him, appeared to notice his indecision. Following his line of sight to the pile of textbooks on the table in the next room, he grinned. ‘Have you been procrastinating, Iwaizumi? What a terrible student you are! Though I suppose it must be hard to concentrate around my pretty face.’

Iwaizumi was too tired for this. ‘Shut up, Trashykawa.’

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows, then flopped down on the nearest sofa and flicked the TV on, switching between the channels to see if there was anything good to watch. Oikawa kneed his legs, wanting to sit down on the sofa as well, but Iwaizumi refused to budge, causing Oikawa to go and curl up on one of the other sofas while shooting him dirty looks.

Iwaizumi did not feel in the least bit guilty. 

_The Bourne Ultimatum_ came on and Iwaizumi smiled softly in satisfaction. One of his favourite films, and no aliens in sight. It should piss Oikawa off nicely. He looked over to gloat at his no doubt tortured expression and found Oikawa staring at him intently. Bewildered, he watched as Oikawa averted his gaze, looking strangely embarrassed, quickly becoming very interested in the TV.

Shaking his head confusedly, he watched Matt Damon flash across the screen as he, for the second time that day, pretended to go to sleep.

This time, Oikawa didn’t do anything. 

Feeling weirdly disappointed and also surprised at himself for wanting to test him, he surrendered himself to his dreams.

*

The next day, the hugging game continued as usual. Well, as usual as it could have been. But things seemed to be getting more intense lately – they squeezed each other more tightly, the number of embraces increased and Iwaizumi was becoming more and flustered. Oikawa didn’t exactly seem unruffled, as he was always being dramatic about everything, though he smirked at Iwaizumi just the same every time he blushed. 

Iwaizumi could sense his impending doom. Neither of them was going to win. They were both too stubborn.

( _And, you like him too much to want to stop._ )

( _Fuck off. Stop making me realise uncomfortable truths._ )

( _I can’t help it. I belong in the back of your head, after all. I can see everything._ )

Oikawa seemed to be laughing a lot more, recently, and Iwaizumi got the distinct feeling he was planning something. Only he had no idea what, other than the fact Oikawa seemed very confident about winning. Iwaizumi was developing an unfortunate – or sensible, depending on how you looked at it – habit of checking over his shoulder at regular intervals so as to fend off any surprises in the form of hugs. Or whatever it was Oikawa was planning to win with. A straight jacket? Random ice water? The possibilities were endless.

*

Iwaizumi started counting the hugs. He couldn’t help it. He just wanted to see if Oikawa was actually doing more frequently or not, because…well, for a lot of reasons. But right now he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

Tuesday: 7

Wednesday: 6

Thursday: 9

Friday: 11

Saturday: 13

Sunday: 2 (Oikawa had gone out somewhere and had gotten “distracted”)

Monday: 13

Tuesday: 15

 _Oh._ Iwaizumi was right. That was a lot.

The thought made him fiercely happy, even if he had no idea what it meant.

*

It was a very cold day, the coldest it had been that year – the air was too crisp and cool even for snow, though black ice hid in plain sight, claiming the dignity of many unsuspecting pedestrians on their way to work. Iwaizumi had saved Oikawa from falling twice, and had even slipped once himself, causing Oikawa to catch him just in time. He’d lorded it over him for the next couple of hours until they’d got back home, and Iwaizumi had started to ignore him, knowing full well that one of the things Oikawa hated most was when people paid no attention to him.

Iwaizumi had given in when Oikawa smoothed out Iwaizumi’s usual pout with a finger and brought him close to his chest and grinned at him until Iwaizumi had to fight a smile of his own.

It was the best of lazy Saturdays, and they were both enjoying it.

Iwaizumi sat at the kitchen table, twirling a pencil between his fingers and reading a book while something simmered on the hob, delicately scented air wafting around the house from the light purple roses Oikawa had somehow procured. Iwaizumi had no idea how he’d managed to get summer flowers in the middle of winter, and Oikawa had answered only with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a laugh, despite Iwaizumi’s questioning frown. _Stupid demons._

Iwaizumi was currently reading _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , and enjoying it immensely. Oikawa was not enjoying the fact that Iwaizumi was abandoning him and alien films in favour of ink on a dead tree, and made this known by sighing loudly at regular intervals from where he was sprawled across the floor in the sitting room, evidently feeling too dramatic for the sofa today.

Iwaizumi, well aware of this fact, growled at him to shut up and carried on reading resolutely. Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him and turned on the TV. The sound of screams met Iwaizumi’s ears for what felt like the billionth time, and he sighed. Did Oikawa never get bored of them? How many times had they watched _Alien_ , now? 

But Iwaizumi had to admit it was endearing that Oikawa wanted to watch it with him.

Still, he wasn’t going to let Oikawa win this little (or rather large, considering they’d been playing it for a while) game, and kept his eyes trained on the page, though he found he’d been reading the same paragraph for a while now. 

Iwaizumi felt the heavy feeling on the back of his neck, the instinctual one humans felt when they were being stared at, or watched, and he grinned at the paper. Oikawa thought he could sneak up on him, did he? He whipped around to find…nothing. He snorted indignantly. ‘I know you’re there, Assikawa. I’m not an idiot, and you’ve pulled that one before.’

The stubborn silence was self-explanatory. ‘If you want me to find you, then fine. But if I kick you when I do then I’m not apologising.’

Iwaizumi walked forward confidently, arms stretched out, and circled around the room’s edges before marching across the middle. When he found nothing, he considered swearing profusely until Oikawa got annoyed, but abandoned the idea when his hands met something solid in the doorway through to where he’d previously been sitting. Oikawa was cheating. He’d moved.

Slowly, smirking, he pushed his hands outwards, trying to find Oikawa’s face so he could punch it. He found a well-muscled arm, his chest, another arm, his neck, smooth and soft, and then his cheeks. His face felt very warm under Iwaizumi’s fingers, and Iwaizumi wondered if he was getting a cold. He laughed. ‘Found you, Trashykawa.’

Oikawa became visible very quickly, in his odd, melting way, and Iwaizumi looked the short way up to his face, feeling triumphant. Only then did he realise that his hands were cradling Oikawa’s face in a most un-friend-like way, and that Oikawa’s cheeks were bright scarlet. For a split second, he was tempted to pinch them, just to see what Oikawa would do. And then he realised he should probably take them away.

He really didn’t want to.

Oikawa smiled at him softly, a very different smile to the one he usually wore.

Then, he bent down, and kissed him. Iwaizumi stiffened in shock as his lips met Oikawa’s. They were warm, and soft, and strangely perfect. They matched Iwaizumi’s in every way possible. Iwaizumi felt himself blushing, his head blank.

The only thing swirling across the pale galaxy of his mind at the moment was that this was what he’d been waiting for, all this time. It felt right, and good.

Tentatively, Iwaizumi kissed him back, not caring if Oikawa was joking, not caring if he was losing, because this was what he wanted and he’d be damned if he was letting go of it now.

His lips shifted against the taller boy’s, and suddenly, Oikawa smiled against him. He drew back, breaking their kiss, eyes sparkling, cheeks glowing with ruddy light. He looked very happy. Iwaizumi was instantly annoyed. He’d been _enjoying_ that. He frowned, then pulled Oikawa down to meet him again. This time, Iwaizumi started the kiss. Oikawa’s eyes widened with surprise, but Iwaizumi had his closed.

Oikawa pressed against him, harder, and this time, Iwaizumi had to break it. It was too intense. He couldn’t keep up with him, with Oikawa’s shining light. But he was determined to learn how.

Breathlessly, Oikawa said, ‘I win.’

Oh God. He had.


	6. Ushijima's Tree Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima gets a look at Oikawa through a tree, of all things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> USHIJIMA IS A GIANT FARMING NERD SO I HAD TO STICK SOMETHING IN HERE  
> Also god damn I love sakura and I was so pleased with this idea when I came up with it. Today's is a short update, so sorry for that, and also I know it's been a long time but finals are finally over and I am free once more! I can write again! And also eat cake unsupervised and cry again! (Who's with me though I have a special relationship with cake).  
> ANYWAY  
> Thanks as always to all of you! At the moment I am getting on to the main chapter and it's going to HUGE this time if I can manage it!  
> ALSO MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL OF YOU LOVELY PEOPLE HAVE A GREAT TIME FROM ME I HOPE YOU ALL GET AMAZING PRESENTS AND YOUR OTP BECOMES CANON AND VICTOR AND YUURI GET MARRIED (I CAN'T WAIT FOR TOMORROW EPISODE 12 AHHHHHHHHH ALSO KILL ME I DON'T WANT IT TO END T~T)

Ushijima sat behind his desk, watching the forest of shelves opposite him in the massive, high-ceilinged room, and scowled ferociously. Ushijima liked to stay neutral on most things, and made an effort not to get angry at small parts of life, but honestly, this was the first time ever a plant had given him so much trouble. Unfortunately, he knew that this particular plant would most likely continue to do so if he didn’t intervene. On top of this, he knew that another would most likely mess up the shelves at some point – most likely Kageyama’s, though he would just have to prepare for that eventuality as it came and not think about it until it happened.

As it stood, it was, to Ushijima’s eternal irritation, none other than Oikawa Tooru's plant giving him trouble at the present. 

He glanced at the shelves again, lined with miniature sakura trees. Ushijima liked these, since they didn’t grow naturally anywhere else, and only came into existence when a demon was born. It was something unique only a few had access to. They also had differing colours to the usual powdery pink, depending on who the tree was connected to. Every time a single blossom bloomed along the trees’ slender branches, it signified another connection had been made between the owner of the tree and someone else. 

Occupying the shelves at the moment were the trees of every demon in the Shiratorizawa division of the Aoba Johsai clan. Hundreds of stunningly beautiful, multi-coloured sakura trees, each ensconced within a white pot, a name written on it in neat black kanji.

At the moment, one of spaces was empty, its occupant in front of Ushijima on his desk, bearing the weight of his intense stare valiantly. It said on its white pot: “Oikawa Tooru”. You wouldn’t have needed to look at the tree to know it was completely crazy. The name on the pot said enough by itself.

Oikawa’s tree had many blossoms, even though each only bloomed when a significant friendship or relationship with another had formed. Oikawa was one of the lucky ones – someone who had many important people in his life. Even if he didn’t always realise it.

The blossoms on the tree were mostly a pale turquoise blue tinted with green, pale at the edges and growing darker towards the centre. It would have been very striking by itself, but since the tree belonged to Oikawa, it naturally had to have something more. On the very highest branch was a single flower that was different to the rest. For one thing, it was quite a bit larger, signifying a particularly valuable bond, and for another, it was a vibrant, shimmering green shot through with streaks of pale blue in places. It was almost like the colour had been mixed with very fine glitter. The flower shone, almost – it was nearly impossible to miss.

Every few minutes, it would open, then it would curl halfway shut again. Oikawa had obviously formed a relationship with someone, but nothing solid yet, as the flower could simply not make up its mind. Oikawa was too unsure. It was almost funny to watch Oikawa get hopeful, to watch the flower open out correspondingly to its fullest and brightest, only to coil nearly shut again as he cast it aside.

Almost.

Weeks ago – months, really – Ushijima had watched it grow. It had only taken a week, much to Ushijima’s surprise. “Oikawa the Heart Breaker” had managed to, within mere days of being banished, form a strong bond with someone else, and it had only gotten stronger. And in such a short amount of time, as well. Ushijima had been quite impressed, considering he’d been at the end of his rope when he’d banished Oikawa, thinking he’d never learn.

Well, not that he’d never learn, and more that Oikawa just didn’t seem to care much, sometimes.

A while ago, Ushijima had nearly been worried enough to go and check on Oikawa when the blossom had completely shut and had started to wilt, almost falling off the tree. Just as he’d nearly made up his mind to go, after watching it getting browner and crisper and generally more dead-looking over a three week period, the flower had suddenly and amazingly opened to its full capacity and had grown even more, gaining more streaks of blue and becoming shinier than ever.

After that was when the tree had started to look truly strange, though admittedly in a pretty way. The flower had continued to grow until it had gotten larger than the palm of Ushijima’s hand, and then, much to Ushijima’s fascination had, in an instant, turned an entirely different blue. It was now bold, bright cobalt, petals edged with mint greens and lighter blues. 

Ushijima knew that a change of this magnitude meant a big change with Oikawa, as well. He frowned at it some more, wondering whether to act now or to wait and see if it would stay this way. If it did, Ushijima decided he would lift the ban early. If it didn’t, Ushijima would lift it early anyway and do something about it himself. 

He’d give it a week. A week for Oikawa to get himself together.

If Oikawa loved someone that much, Ushijima would be damned if he was going to let it almost die, as it nearly done previously. Oikawa was on a path of no return towards becoming a better person. Also, Ushijima really did want him to be happy. He still couldn’t get the image out of his head, of a little Tooru following him around adoringly, pudgy hands grabbing at his clothes.

After all, Ushijima had said he’d lift the ban if Oikawa found someone he respected. What Oikawa had failed to weasel out of him was that it had to be someone he loved, as well.

And Oikawa was undeniably head over heels.


End file.
